Northern Waters
by DominaEcca
Summary: Hetalia Human AU: beginning in 1938 in Sweden, this story follows the Nordic Five when they meet a particular German soldier. Rated M for cursing, adult themes, and some violence. Sweden x Germany is the main pairing, although the story deals a lot with the changing relationships within the group.
1. Chapter 1

"Ber?" Lukas called quietly into the dark house.

He was here. He knew he was. Yet, there was no answer.

"Berwald?" he asked again, a bit louder.

Panic threatened to overtake him until he spotted a tiny bit of light stretching down the hallway. Walking closer, he could see the faint light of what must have been a single candle behind the closed door to the washroom. He stood a bit straighter and walked more heavily down the hallway. He was heard. A light, muffled sound of scrambling reached his ears, putting him even more on edge. Still, when he reached the door he didn't hesitate before turning the knob and pushing it opened. Hesitating wasn't in his nature.

"Ber?" he repeated as the door swung opened.

The sight made his heart wrench in his chest hard enough to suck the air from his lungs. The tall Swede was crouched over on himself, the dark red rivulets of dried and wet blood contrasting his pale features. His arm looked nothing short of mangled, and various other open cuts littered the skin of his face and arms, complimented by dark bruises of purple and blue too fresh to be tinged with yellow.

"Don't look, Luke. Please, don't look." his voice was deep, but, it was broken.

The stupid man. He was too proud.

"Shut up." Lukas snapped at him, lighting the other candles in the room with the single one.

Once the room was properly lit, he looked again to Berwald. It was even worse that what it had seemed. And his arm…

"Can you feel your fingers?" Lukas asked as he swallowed and approached him, taking over where Berwald was trying to wrap it.

Through the cracked lenses of his glasses he studied him, and then nodded once.

"Fuck, Ber," he swore quietly, wrapping it tightly to stop the blood.

The job had been simple, honestly. They were to bring the guns to the house that would serve as the meeting place and enter through the back. They had dealt with this same group before and it had been quick and clean. Lukas hadn't expected anything different. Everything had gone as planned, and at 2:30am on the dot he and Mathias were heading away from the house, following their own tracks back through the snow, when they heard the first gunshot. Berwald wasn't waiting for them above the hill. Lukas knew better than to wait to see what had happened, but still Mathias had to grab him and shake him before he could get himself to run away.

It had been easier since they weren't carrying the guns they had been intending to sell anymore, but as two more shots rang out behind them it was hard to think optimistically. He wasn't sure who could have been shooting who, but he knew that he couldn't have been good. Not for anyone. Mathias had led them through a small forest, which help to hide their tracks if anyone decided to follow them later, and by the time they exited on the northern-most side, they already neared their the small cabin they called their safe-house. It would still be hours before dawn broke as they waited anxiously by the phone, but no one called.

When Lukas could no longer stand to simply sit and feel the sickness in his stomach consume him, he stood, and Mathias knew what he was doing without him having to say it. It was one of only a few times and they didn't look at each other as Lukas put his coat and boots back on and left. The distance between their safe-house and Berwald's home was far enough to take Lukas nearly two hours normally, but he made it there in one and a half, sweating and panting heavily.

As he had approached his door, he had seen the footprints.

"Fuck," he Lukas swore again, and looked up at the broken glasses. "What the hell happened?"

He didn't look as though he wanted to speak, but Lukas heard the story through his bloody lips

He wasn't sure if they had been tipped off, or if the stars were in alignment against him that night, but there were people there, waiting for him.

"Who?" Lukas demanded, making Berwald wince when he yanked the bandage too tight.

"Don't know." he shook his head. "Not theirs,"

Not the group they had been dealing with. Lukas wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse, but now as he thought about it, they would probably never do business with them again. Not after something like this. There was no trust these days; everyone had to be cautious.

"I killed them," the bleeding man before him confessed after swallowing in a manner that looked like he was choking. "Killed them all,"

Lukas swallowed, too; his throat felt dry as he began to feebly help him shrug off his heavy jacket and began to patch up some of the large injuries that seemed to have been made by a rather dull blade. A bayonet, maybe?

"How many?"

"Five." he told him with a cold certainty.

"Shit," he hissed, his hand slipping again and making the tall Swede wince. "Sorry,"

He just grunted.

There was a long stretch of silence, the middle-of-the-night kind of silence, with both of them utterly on edge. If any creature moved within half of a mile of the house, they heard it. All Lukas could picture was soldiers coming to the house, breaking down the door, and tearing Berwald out of his arms. They wouldn't take him to prison then, they wouldn't show him any mercy. A loud shot by the side of the house, and that would be it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Berwald suddenly reached forward with his less-injured arm and brushed his cheek which only then he realized was wet. "Don't cry,"

He angrily wiped his eyes with his sleeve, pulling away from his hand.

"This it," he told him.

"What?" Lukas asked, looking up at him.

He frowned the way he did when words became harder for him. "This is it. No more. No more fightin'."

Lukas looked down as he resumed cleaning and dressing the wounds. Would Berwald really do it? Would he really stop fighting?

"Just, don't cry," he muttered, cupping his face with his large hand and tilting his head back up so they were looking at each other again.

"Ber," he whimpered and bowed his head forcefully, allowing the Swede to wrap himself around him, grunting in pain, but not letting go.

He tried to fight the embrace, to tell himself he had no intention of actually crying, but he was couldn't stop. Sobs began to wrack his body as he pressed himself into that broad chest, clutching tightly to him as the image of him being taken and thrown down against the side of his own house, hardly having time to look up and meet their eyes before the gun was brought down, aimed at his defined brow. Lukas let out a shrill shriek as he heard the pistol go off in his mind, feeling as though he were trapped in a waking nightmare; he knew the images were false, but he couldn't stop them. There was no escape. There was no way out. There was so much blood.

Then, he became aware of something other than his sobbing and the image of blood flecked against the snow. Berwald was singing to him. In Norwegian. It was an old lullaby his grandmother had sung to him a few times. He almost wanted to hit Berwald for doing such a stupid thing, but instead he only drew deeper breaths, and allowed himself to be rocked slightly.

When the sobbing had subsided to less than pathetic hiccups, he pulled back, aware that Berwald's wounds were not fully treated. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lukas covered it quickly.

"Don't say anything. Not a word until I've finished." he commanded.

Berwald closed his eyes in a silent nod and Lukas removed his hand. He finished cleansing the wounds and dressing them in silence. There were many, and a few were deep, but most of them were simple cuts that might even be healed up before the end of the week. There was nothing to be done about the bruises, but as he helped him pull his shirt off, he sighed in relief to see that his ribs looked mostly unharmed. Once he was patched up, they looked at each other.

"Where's Mat?" he asked, his voice strained and cracking.

"At the safe house. It's—" his voice failed and he coughed. "It's better for us to be spread out anyway,"

He nodded once, a dark and sinister feeling behind those deep blue eyes.

"I should call him," he said and then stepped back. "Can you get to the bedroom?"

Berwald nodded, but took a minute standing. He could only imagine the pain in his legs from having to run so far after a fight. This whole damn country was uphill. He allowed himself to be used as a crutch, although if anyone had seen them they both would have denied it. That's how they were. Mathias, too. They were all just too goddamn proud.

Lukas pushed open the door to the bedroom, helping him to the large bed that Berwald had built for himself, since he didn't fit on any others. He helped him over to it and tried to set him down carefully, despite his apparent want to flop down carelessly. Then he began to yank off his boots and socks, absently realizing that he had very nicely shaped feet. They were cute, even.

"Luke?" he called suddenly.

"Yeah, Ber?"

"Stay with me tonight?" he asked almost timidly.

His heart did something strange, but he tried to ignore it. "Of course I am, you idiot."

"Here?" he emphasized, putting his large hand palm-down on the bed.

Lukas began to blush but then just arched his eyebrow slightly instead. "Do you see another bed in here?"

Berwald began to smile and reached out gently, touching his face again. That smile, god, how long had it been since he had seen him smile like that? A part of him wanted to pull away, to remind him that whatever they had had was now gone, lost in the past, but another part of him, a stronger, secret part, held him in place. He had never wanted it to fall apart like that, but with Mathias thrown into the mix…no, there had been no other option. Still, he was here, wasn't he? With Berwald. And Mathias was absent, for the time.

Once he had helped him strip down to his underwear he helped him shift beneath the heavy covers and then he turned around. "I'm going to call Mat,"

Berwald might have grunted, but it didn't matter. Lukas went to the kitchen where the phone was and called. The phone barely rung once.

"_Lukas?_" the Dane was frantic.

"We're safe." he told him, feeling strangely annoyed.

"_Thank God._" it sounded like he swallowed. "_Nothing's happening here,_"

"Not here either. Ber…" Lukas bit his lips as his head fell and then he raised it again. "Ber fought them,"

There was a sick pause. "_How many got away?_"

"None." he confessed quietly and before Mathias could ask, he answered. "He killed them all. There were five."

"_Holy shit,_"

"Tell 'em to stay there. We'll call him in the mornin' if there's no trouble," Berwald called from the bedroom.

Lukas winced at the noise, but obeyed. "Sleep there tonight. We'll call you in the morning unless something happens."

He could almost see Mathias' obnoxious hair move as he nodded. "_Alright,_"

There was a testing silence.

"_Good night, Luke,_" he said in something barely above a whisper.

"Good night, Mat." Lukas told him and hung up.

He moved out of the cold, dark kitchen quickly, returning to the bedroom, and to Berwald. The Swede's eyes were open, although his broken glasses had been removed. Still, to him it must have seemed that Lukas was moving towards the bed too quickly, which prompted him to speak.

"Aren't you going to undress for me?" he smirked.

Lukas would have hit him, even in this state, had he been closer. "Shut up, you idiot."

He smiled a bit wider, but as Lukas began to pull of his boots and jacket, his attention was brought to the dark bloodstains. It was sickening to wonder if it was Berwald's blood, the blood of someone he cared for, or if it had previously belonged to someone who was now dead somewhere in the many Swedish forests. Someone Lukas had never known. Someone he had never even seen…

Berwald called to him when he sunk too deeply in thought, and although he cast him his best annoyed look, he was thankful. Sometimes it felt like he was always trying to drown himself with heavy thoughts, but Berwald's deep, wise voice could always bring him back.

Then he climbed into bed beside him after putting out the candle that he had taken with him from the washroom, enclosing them in darkness save for the bluish midnight light that silently fell through the window. He was hardly allowed to shift his weight on the bed before Berwald pulled him close, pressing their bodies together hard. That bastard was going to open up all the wounds he just closed if he kept using his strength like that. Still, he couldn't deny how good the embrace felt. It had been so long since they were able to touch and hold each other. Lukas had never been quite sure what had happened when he brought Mathias to Berwald's home, but whatever feeling the Dane carried, it was strong. Strong enough to silence Lukas and keep Berwald from taking what he desired.

But he wasn't here now.

Slowly, Lukas felt Berwald's lips trailing across his forehead, down to the side of his face.

"Ber, you need to rest, you idiot," he grumbled.

"Am resting," he muttered, continuing to kiss him.

Lukas wiggled just a bit out of his reach. "Sleep."

Those deeply blue eyes echoed with and old kind of knowledge and power, but also something so innocent Lukas almost wanted to coo at him.

"Ya really want me to stop?" he asked, his voice low and serious; he was asking about more than just forehead kisses.

Lukas slowly began to hold his arms to his chest. "For now, Ber. For now."

He was silent but then nodded with a grunt. "Alright."

Still, they cuddled closer as they settled in to sleep, Lukas having to force himself to focus only on Berwald's breathing in order to silence the many painful thoughts in his mind. For now…it was all he could think to say. Something else was coming; he could feel it deep in his bones. He just didn't know what it was.

_It_ came in the form of a Finn named Tino.


	2. Chapter 2

Berwald breathed out heavily, adjusting his glasses again. He looked around the room, as if searching, but he knew what he was looking for wasn't there. Tino was gone. It was that simple. He had been taken away, taken so far away that Berwald had no hope of seeing him again until the war was over…so he really had no hope at all. He knew that. But still, he couldn't help but imagine that every time he opened the door, Tino would be there. But even now as he grasped his gun and made his way to the door, he knew better. Still, hoping let him feel something.

The tall Swede stepped out of the small house, locking the door carefully behind him, and then turned and embraced the cold. There was something close to comfort to be found in the way the familiar cold snatched away the heat surrounding his body. He liked to be held by the cold instead.

There was no real point in patrolling his small territory so often, but he did it because it helped to take his mind of Tino. That sweet little Fin, whom he had found four months ago out in the Swedish forests, alone. Tino still had never told him how it was that he came to be there, but he doubted if he remembered it entirely anywhere. He had been near death, in the clutches of severe hypothermia. Berwald had taken him home, and when Tino came through, he couldn't deny how relieved he had been. It was strange, to be relieved over the survival of a stranger, but he felt almost as if he'd known the small, blond man forever.

Berwald was a very solitary person, and had originally intended for Tino to leave immediately after recovering, but, he didn't push him to. And after a while, he didn't want him to. Having the smaller man around him made him happy, somehow. And the fact that Tino didn't want to leave made him happier still. Tino ended up living with him for several months, and in those months, he had come to like, or rather, adore the young Fin. He was quiet, but cute. A little jumpy, and a few times Berwald had scared him to the point of shrieking just by walking up next to him quietly, but he so utterly endearing. It didn't take Berwald long to realize that he was falling in love.

Then, Tino had gone in to town alone one day and failed to return by nightfall, Berwald had spent the night searching for him. And the next day. And the day after that. In the end, he was forced to just accept that Tino might have simply gone home. The pain made his heart heavy, but nearly a week later, he received a letter.

From Tino.

He told him that he was safe, and not to worry. In scribbled handwriting he said simply that he had to go back home for a bit, though he wasn't sure how long. The letter said nothing else other else. This had confused him so utterly that he just sat on the floor in the middle of the living room while he tried to take it all in.

It had been two weeks since then, and Berwald was not adjusting well. He didn't like change, and yet, Tino's absence was harder to accept than his presence had been. He missed his humming and finger drumming, and the way they would sit together in the living room in the evening with the fire lit. They didn't talk much, but there was just something about Tino's presence that he enjoyed. That made him feel different. Lighter, maybe. Without him now, Berwald felt a strange weight on him, and it was a struggle every day just to get out of bed.

He sighed harder and shook his head, trying to think of something else. For a moment, there was nothing else aside from the impossibly smooth snow, the ancient, dark trees, and the impeccably clear sky above. Then, he saw something that made his heart thump out of rhythm.

Footprints.

They moved in a strange zigzag fashion just along the border of the trees before disappearing into them. Berwald clutched his gun closer and adjusted his glasses a bit, and then drew a deep breath and marched forward towards the footprints. The strange tightening sensation across his chest which had once lost its edge was suddenly painful again, despite his efforts to breathe out most of the tension. It had been a long time since anyone had trespassed on his property, and last time it had been Tino.

Reaching the eave of the trees, Berwald's throat constricted. They weren't the prints of regular snow boots, and a few steps into the forest, he spotted bright flecks of pink in the snow. He would have lied if he said a part of him didn't want to turn back, but he wasn't about to slink off to his house and hide for fear of someone who was probably injured. The footprints slowly grew closer together, and long drag marks could be seen, as well as clues of stumbling. Still, it was quite a ways before Berwald came upon the source of the footprints.

It was a man lying on his side in the light snowfall beneath the trees that had alarmed Berwald so. He slowly lowered his gun, and then cleared his throat loudly. The man didn't respond. Cautiously, Berwald stepped a bit closer, and nudged him carefully with his foot. Again, nothing. He spotted a gun at the man's side, and bent down, swiftly removing it. After this was accomplished, he slung his own gun over his shoulder, put the man's pistol in his pocket, and reached down with both hands, turning him over more onto his back.

He gasped audibly and jerked away.

The unconscious man wore the uniform of a German soldier.

Berwald's vision intensified, and he noticed every detail seemingly at the same time. He noticed every strand of the man's fine, blond hair, and the way it appeared to have been meticulously combed back before whatever incident had happened to lead him here. He saw the blood down the front of his uniform, staining the wretched symbol on the front. With a gleam of light as the leaves rustled above, he saw the flash of metal, and noticed the Iron Cross that around his neck. He saw the way his eyebrows were still furrowed, as if he was still aware that he was in pain, and finally, he noticed that his chest rose and fell.

He was alive.

Berwald's first instinct was to grab his gun and aim it at the man's head, but, he didn't. He just stood there, and stared down at him.

When the initial terror passed, he realized that this man was bleeding to death at his feet. He had a decision to make, but had no honestly good options.

He couldn't just leave him. He knew that already; it simply wasn't in his power. However, stubbornly he tried to contemplate it. It wouldn't take him long to turn right around and go back home and lock the door. This man was no threat, and once he died the creatures of the wild would dispose of him.

A sickening bolt of empathy wracked his tall figure as he suddenly imagined the man waking up in the night, alone, cold, and dying. No one would hear if he cried for help. No one would find him. Not until it was too late. Would he notice the footprints that marched along his own? Would he see the way a stranger came, paused, and left, without doing anything? Perhaps he would think that he went for help, and would lie there with a faint bit of hope in his heart, until his heart ceased to beat, and the only ones who came were the wolves.

Berwald coughed a little to stop the horrific thought, switching over to his next option in a hurry. He could shoot the man. It wouldn't be hard, and it would be quick. He wouldn't feel the pain, none of it, and no one would know what he'd done. It would be a mercy killing, wouldn't it? Without missing a beat, his mind responded to him, telling him that his only act of kindness would be that this poor bastard didn't have to _feel_ himself be torn apart by the merciless jaws of predators, and later, the sharp beaks of scavengers.

Suddenly, the man twitched a bit, and his breathing hitched. Berwald froze harder than ice, every muscle in his body stuck flooded with adrenaline. Yet, that was all he did.

After a bit, Berwald let out his breath with a thick string of curses. Because he knew what he was going to do; he had known it from the beginning.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit," he ranted, securing his gun on his shoulder, and then reached down and began to gather the man up, admittedly with as much care as he could.

The German grunted, but remained unconscious. Berwald slung him over his large shoulder, holding him with both hands, and began his trek back to his house. The shit he seemed to get himself into…

* * *

It was getting dark when he unlocked and kicked open the door, carrying the man inside with him. He shut the door and locked it again before carrying him to his room, setting him down on the bed before getting the lights and drawing the curtains. In the better lighting, he could see that the man's injuries were few, but simply in inconvenient places.

There was a cut on his head that still bled if touched, and the nasty bullet wound on his leg. Although it didn't look like a regular bullet wound, Berwald was honestly shocked that he had been able to stand at all, let alone have walked so far…where the hell had he even come from?

The world knew that Sweden was a neutral county, yet, that didn't seem to stop the relentless transports that carried all manner of shipments to German forces in the north. Berwald made it a point to stay out of the way as best he could, but he knew that there for forces far larger than him at work in the world, and in a strange way, he felt as if he'd always known that something like this would happen. Something would draw him in, and he might never be able to get out.

He left the room, starting the fire in the living room and bringing back his medicinal supplies. As he did this, however, he realized what a dangerous position he'd put himself in. He had left the German unattended in his room. For all he knew, the second he entered the room again he was going to be facing a soldier instead of a defenseless, sleeping man. So, he walked quieter, and then listened at the door before entering again. Nothing.

When he drew himself up and opened the door, his gun still with him, he realized that he man hadn't move from where he'd set him on the bed. His fears, while not completely irrational, suddenly felt silly, and he entered the room with a normal amount of noise.

The German, despite nearly freezing to death, was running a dangerously high temperature. Berwald was naturally good with medicine, however, since (according to his grandmother) being born feet first made him so. So, he carefully began to deal with the bleeding cut on his forehead. He had no idea what had made such a mean cut, but with care, it wouldn't come to be infected. Berwald cared for it carefully, his nimble fingers moving carefully over his skin, which was radiating heat. It didn't appear to need stitching, but he put a small bandage over it to try to hold the skin closed once the bleeding was under control. As long as he didn't hit it again, he'd be fine.

As he went about removing his jacket, he noticed the strong smell of gunpowder and metal mixed with the smell of sweat and something else. It was one of those smells that people just had. Absently, Sweden thought that he rather liked it. Then, he felt a sudden extreme sense of embarrassment. His mind flashed through horrible scenarios in which the man would awake as he fussed with his clothing, and, being as awkward as he was, Berwald thought he would have just died. Yet, he removed the jacket without incident, and found no injuries underneath it besides a few large bruises. Then, turning his attention to the wound on his left leg, he moved to the other side of the bed and began to tug the pants out of the way.

The soldier suddenly shifted, making Berwald freeze like a statue again, and he could see the sweat shimmering on his forehead as his brows creased deeper in pain. He thought about quietly murmuring something for comfort, but he wasn't sure what to say, so instead he carefully, if not awkwardly, patted his shoulder until his body seemed to relax a bit.

Then, he returned to the task at hand, and managed to move the pant leg without much more of a fuss. The wound was ugly, rough, and deep. It would definitely need stitches. He wondered how many he could do before the man woke up. Still, he gathered his things, and set to work. The man shifted, but he held his leg still, and when he began grunting and groaning he only paused for a few minutes at a time before continuing. Once, when he looked up, he witnessed the terrifying sight of the German looking back at him, but he wasn't truly awake, and his eyes closed again after a few moments of silence. It took a total of nine stitches to close the wound, and he sighed when he finished, knowing how long he would carry that scar as he wrapped it tightly.

Lastly, Berwald removed his boots, cringing at the blood he could see through the socks from walking so far. He sterilized his feet, watching his face intently for signs of awakening, a bit surprised when all he saw was a twitch a something like another grunt. Alcohol burned like hell, but this man didn't seem to know that at the moment. So, he carried on, carefully patching him up with much more ease than the other wounds, and then sat back and took a deep breath.

He could see no more fresh blood on him, and decided his work was concluded. As he began to put the medicinal materials away, however, he saw a shiver run through the soldier, despite how hot his body actually was, and groped weakly at his shoulders. Berwald watched for a moment before grabbing the blanket at the edge of the bed and unfolding it. It wasn't heavy, but he didn't want him to get too warm. He carefully draped it over him, and watched as he was soothed once more.

He then took a small towel which he had gotten wet and gently dabbed his forehead, cooling him a bit and wiping off the dried blood and dirt while being careful of his cut. The soldier twitched at the initial contact, but then ceased to move. Berwald watched him carefully, subconsciously memorizing everything about him in an orderly manner. Although his skin was flushed from the fever, it seemed to be a very pale color naturally, proving his origin further. Berwald's skin wasn't as creamy; he had a pink tint to his light skin most of the time that sometimes turned purple if he got cold enough.

After a bit, he decided that he could leave the wet towel there for a moment, and began to clean up. As Berwald finished gathering his things and setting them on top of the dresser in the corner, he realized that he didn't know what to do next. He couldn't sleep with this German in his house, and he only had one bed, anyway. So, despite how tired he felt, he realized that he had to simply watch over him until he awoke, and then he would have to decide what to do from there.

Settling into the chair by the window and turning it to face the bed, he thought about what he would do when the soldier awoke. Presumably, the soldier would panic. He might even think Berwald to be his enemy. He pulled his gun a bit tighter on his lap. After that? He spoke German, enough to communicate well enough, but he wondered if it would be hard to get him to listen. He needed to rest, but even Berwald wasn't certain on the laws regarding harboring German soldiers in one's home. He knew for sure though that his neighbors (who, granted, lived miles away) wouldn't like it. A few people in the town he lived next to were fairly openly against Germany. Berwald didn't exactly have a friendly relationship with anyone in town as it was, since they seemed frightened of him, but he knew it could go very badly for him if people thought he was a German sympathizer. He didn't sympathize with him because he was a German, though. Just, because he was a man. Wasn't that the right thing?

After a moment, he cursed quietly again under his breath. It was kindness, he scoffed to himself. Kindness was going to get him killed. Still, at least he wouldn't be sleeping with the weight of murder on his mind, even if that meant he wasn't sleeping at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three by Germany, yay!

So, I just want to make a quick note: the credit for the idea of dear Ludwig coming to Sweden by train and remaining by defecting belongs to a FanFiction writer by the name of TwistedGoth in her story Orange Blossom Special. (Damnit, this is like, a fan fiction for _that_ fan fiction at this point, but I love it so much!) So, yeah, credit where it's due there.

Other than that, this is sort of an introductory/explanatory chapter from Lud's POV, so not much action. Sorry 'bout that.

* * *

Ludwig was only aware of pain. It washed over him in intense waves, pinning him down, drowning him. He was cold, or was he hot? There was thump that sounded far away and he settled on hot. Slowly, he tried to lift his arms, finding that there was a blanket resting on him. Although his arms seemed to weigh more than he remembered and he temporarily thought that his blanket was a net, he managed to push it back a little, sighing when he felt the cold air brush his skin.

The cold was intense though, enough to being to awaken his sensed, and as everything settled, he became aware of a dull throbbing in his left leg and in both of his feet.

Slowly, as if underwater, he tried to pull his memories of what had happened forward. They were fuzzy and came slowly, but after a bit he was able to remember that he was a solider. His name was Ludwig Beilschmidt of the German army. Wincing when he tried to move his leg, he guessed that was the reason behind this. Yet, he had no memory of a battle. He couldn't have accidently been injured, could he?

The sound of someone letting out a deep breath had his ears suddenly pricking up. His head hurt, but he still felt himself go on guard. Slowly, he willed himself to open his eyes.

The light wasn't very bright, but it made his head ache a little worse. Gradually, his eyes focused and began to register things. A room. A bed. His army jacket slung over the bedpost. It was clear this was no military camp. The strange thought that it was someone's home was enough to get him to raise his head a little bit to look around more. Then, he saw what had sighed.

A man sat in a chair in the corner near the window, facing him. He was tall, and his long legs reached out far as he sat, but he was slumped over, apparently asleep. Below him, he saw a book lying open on the floor, and guess what had made the thumping noise earlier. He studied what he could see of his face and his outfit, but had no idea who he was. It was no one he had known, and he was not wearing a uniform. Then, he spotted the gun in his lap, and his back stiffened a bit.

Could this be an enemy?

He had heard of other soldiers being taken captive even in neutral nations. They could be sold. Ludwig swallowed nervously, but then realized that if he had been captured, he would have probably been tied up, not left to rest on a bed. Slowly, the fear faded back, and he thought about it again.

He was obviously injured; perhaps this man had helped him? Raising his hand slowly, he saw the cuts and dried bits of blood and dirt, and when it put it to his head, he felt a bandage there. Ludwig felt a sick churning in his stomach, and realized that beyond everything—the pain, the fear, the confusion—he was hungry. He wondered how long it had been since he'd last eaten.

After a moment, he tried to adjust himself a bit, but the bed creaked loudly as he did so and the man in the chair bolted upright. Their eyes locked hard, but he was stunned by their intensity. In a strange way, he immediately felt as if he had been caught doing something wrong, and had somehow angered the man across the room.

There was a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence while the man in the chair slowly stood, his gun still in his hand. Ludwig's throat constricted and he tried to move back as he came forward.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," he said in awkward German.

Ludwig stared for a moment, but then nodded to acknowledge that he had understood.

"How do ya feel?" the tone, if nothing else, gave away the fact that he had probably never left Sweden in his entire life.

He shook his head a bit as an answer, and then looked back at him. "Where am I?"

The tall Swede stared down at him intensely for a moment before answering, as if appearing to want to test something with the silence.

"Sweden."

Ludwig almost felt annoyed; he had guessed that much. "How did I get here?"

He shrugged to indicate that he didn't know. "Only carried ya here from the forest,"

The forest…fuzzy and incomplete flashes of memory shot across his eyes. He saw stars, billions of them, but it hurt to look up that high, and soon branches closed over him, seeming to grab him and pull him in. And then, nothing.

"I'll make breakfast. Wait here." he said and before Ludwig could respond, he was out the door.

He stared after him for a minute, and then looked around again, feeling strangely out of place. He tried to shake it off, which hurt, and began to check himself over. He was covered in heavy, dark bruises, but the only actual injuries were on his forehead, leg, and feet. His feet didn't look so bad, and his forehead didn't feel so bad, but his leg burned horribly, and it was only after a minute that he realized that it had been stitched back together. He wondered if he could even walk on it. The thought of putting his boots back on made his empty stomach churn, however, so he stopped thinking about it.

It was impossible to be patient in a situation such as his, but being stranded in a stranger's bed didn't leave him many options other than to sit still in order to cause himself as little pain as possible, and try to remember what had happened.

He had been assigned to go north, while his brother, Gilbert, had been assigned to go south. Ludwig wasn't sure why he was given the less dangerous assignment, having always proven himself capable in combat, even if the nightmares were relentless for weeks after. Yet, he couldn't really remember much after getting on the train. The train was nice, he remembered liking it, but there was something else. Something sinister lingered on the edges of his memories, staining them with dark blotches of something he wasn't able to identify, nor look at directly. It was making his head hurt and his hands grow restless.

He was later fed by the Swede, but it felt awkward because he didn't leave while he ate. The taller man simply sat down again with the gun and a cup of coffee and watched him most of the time. Occasionally he had looked out the window, since the curtains were now open, or at the book after retrieving it from the floor, but mostly he watched him. Ludwig tried not to look back when he felt the weight of those blue eyes on him because it would only result in a damned staring contest until he asked if everything tasted alright.

To his surprise, the food had actually been delicious. Once he had eaten, his head didn't throb so much, and his feet didn't bother him at all unless he touched them together. The Swede took his plate without a word when he finished, and again Ludwig watched him go. He wasn't sure what was happening and guess that he would just have to wait for the man to tell him.

Upon returning, their eyes met, and they stared at each other intensely again.

To his surprise, the man shifted awkwardly on his feet. "I'm Berwald,"

It took him a moment to realize he was introducing himself, and nodded his head. "Ludwig Beilschmidt."

He nodded back, but then appeared to be satisfied enough to fall back into silence. That wouldn't do; Ludwig couldn't stand not knowing anymore.

"So, what now?" he asked lamely, brushing his hair back a bit with one hand.

Berwald moved his heavy gaze down to his bandaged calf. "Leg needs to heal,"

"…And," he said when the platinum blond didn't continue. "Does anyone know I'm here?"

He shook his head. "Ya haven't been here long."

Ludwig looked down, feeling defeated at being unable to continue the conversation.

"Just rest. I'll be out here if ya need somethin'," he said abruptly, shutting the door again and walking down the hall.

Regardless of everything going through his mind, he obeyed and lied back down. There were still fuzzy thoughts of something bad and random flashes of his brother telling him things, but somehow his sunk passed it all, and his mind dove down into unconsciousness. Thinking back later, he thought that it could have been the unbelievably comfortable bed that had put him to sleep.

When he awoke again, it wasn't slowly.

Ludwig bolted awake and in that instant, everything was clear. He remembered it all: he was deserting.

There had been some kind of problem, a plot, made by people he had assumed to be comrades. Once on the train, they had tried to frame him. Tried to make him out to be a double-agent, and his superior, someone Ludwig had fought under and put his life on the line countless times for, believed them. The sense of betrayal had been so overwhelming that Ludwig didn't even fight it when they tied him up for what was to be the rest of the trip. Once in the north, they were to have him arrested and sent back to Germany. The thought was horrifying. He knew what happened to double-agents.

Yet, once he had recovered from the initial shock, there had been nothing left but anger. It had destroyed everything he'd ever known or believed in. So, he decided he would abandon it, the same way everything had abandoned him. In the dead of night, he had escaped. It was challenging, and was actually where he had gotten the cut on his head from, but on his way to the back of the train he had passed the sleeping, defenseless faces of those who had once stood by him and who had turned on him. He knew he could have killed him all just like that, but, he didn't. He just turned and left. Once he made it to the back of the train, it wasn't long until he spotted a fairly flat space, and jumped. The landing had been terrifying, and was where the bruises had come from, but he lied there in the snow until the train was far enough away for fear of people keeping watch.

Overall, his escape from the train seemed almost painfully easy. It hurt, to think that it all could have just ended so quickly, that everything he had thought he'd lived for, everything he was prepared to die for was gone, lost. Still, Ludwig wasn't one to sit and mope in the snow in the freezing night of Swedish valley, so he got up and moved on, heading in search of a road he could follow.

That's where things gone from bad to worse. He had indeed found the road, but something else found him. Although Sweden was still stubbornly neutral to the war all around it, there were people in its midst who weren't. They went out of their way to find the battle, and to fight it. These were the people who happened to find him.

At first, he had scared the hell out of them. A German, alone but armed looked suspicious, and he guessed that they had assumed they were caught doing whatever they might have been doing. Yet, somehow, they came to realize that he was exactly what he looked like, and after pulling up next to him on the road, the two of them had gotten out of the car. Ludwig clutched at his gun, not aiming it, but ready to. They were armed as well though.

Once of them smiled. It made him sick.

He didn't speak their language, but he knew it wasn't Swedish. It was too different. He shouted back in German, but they didn't appear to understand him. It scared the smaller of the two a bit though, and had taken the smile off of the other's face. That had pleased him, momentarily. Next thing he knew, he had taken a shot to his leg, and was forced to fire in return in order to save his life. After he fired, the taller one grunted, and had begun to sink to the ground. The other immediately went from attack to defense, and when Ludwig began to run away, he had let him go. There was something weird in that one's eyes.

He had run until the pain had become unbearable, but then he walked. It felt like he walked for years. He wondered if he had been delirious from blood loss, but he had seen a light. A window, maybe? Yet it had vanished, and he had found himself among trees, and in the end he collapsed, certain he was dead.

Slowly, his heart began to speed up, making his leg ache with each beat. A single, glaring thought took up the entirety of his mind: he had to make sure no one knew he was here. He couldn't go back. He wouldn't. He was defecting. Ludwig almost scoffed. Could it even be called defecting for a traitor to break rank? The thoughts made him angry and sick, but he swallowed and breathed, and tried to think of what he would do.

Slowly, his mind turned his eyes to the window.

_Sweden_.

Maybe, just maybe, he could stay here. It was neutral, it was vast, and he could disappear into it, never to be found by the Germans or the world ever again. Yes, his mind latched onto this idea with enough power to almost break it. This is what he would do. But first thing come first and he turned his head towards the door. What to do about the Swede who had saved him?

Apparently, he hadn't told anyone he was here yet, but could he trust that? The man—Berwald, was it?—had rescued him, so he obviously wasn't like the ones who had shot him, but he didn't appear to support Germany either. Not that that would do him any good anymore. Maybe he could just wait until he was healed. After all, he didn't know really anything about the culture, he didn't speak the language, and all he had was his uniform and his gun—

…All he had was his uniform.

A part of his mind timidly urged him to just tell his host the truth, but he shut it down harshly. No one could trust a traitor. It hurt, but that's what he was, regardless of the fact that his country had betrayed him first, he had betrayed it back. Somehow, that was worse.

The door opened, making him jump and then wince in pain.

"Sorry." Berwald muttered and then raised the fresh bandages he brought. "Need to change them."

Ludwig nodded and he approached the bed almost cautiously. Ludwig began to wonder if he was afraid of him. After all, he was a solider, and Berwald was not. Despite the gun at his side, if he wanted to, Ludwig guess that once he healed just a bit more, he could fight his way out with relative ease, regardless of the fact that Berwald was bigger.

He sat on the edge of the bed, which creaked and tilted a little as it accepted his weight, and then he stared intensely at his forehead. Ludwig held perfectly still while he was assessed, and then closed his eyes while Berwald removed the old bandage, cleaned the wound, and reapplied a clean one. It wasn't too painful, but he knew that it must have bled terribly. Head wounds were like that.

With a nod to himself, Berwald moved down to his leg and, after receiving a nod from Ludwig, lifted it and began to unwind the bandage. He winced, feeling the bandage tug at the stitches, but was surprised to see how well of a job he had done. He had been certain he was going to lose his damned leg over that wound.

Berwald raised his eyebrows at him in what Ludwig eventually realized was concern, and then Ludwig shook his head. It wasn't too painful, but he appreciated that Berwald hadn't asked him outright. He cleaned it with startlingly careful hands, and reapplied the bandage quickly, wasting no time. Ludwig also appreciated this.

When he got to his feet, however, Ludwig had to bite his tongue. They were raw and sore, and every time a bit of skin stuck to the bandage it sent a bolt of sharp pain up his leg, making him want to retract them. Berwald tried to be careful, but wasn't slow. He apparently knew the need to get things over with quickly, without drawing them out. As Ludwig watched him work, he began to wonder if he really was the only soldier in the room. Few eyes were as steady as Berwald's, even among some of the oldest fighters.

Finally, he finished and replaced the bandages around both of his feet. Once they were wrapped, the sharp pain faded to a hot, dull throbbing that Ludwig could deal with. Then, the tall Swede simply stood at the edge of the bed, staring at him, as if waiting.

He didn't know if he was going to speak, but before he could, there was a sickening knock at the front door.


	4. Chapter 4

Berwald almost couldn't believe what he'd heard, but the short set of sharp knocks sounded again and a cold pit formed in his stomach.

"Stay here." he ordered and left, shutting the door behind him.

He knew who it was. He didn't have to wonder about that. But why now? If they had come at any other time it would have been perfectly fine. Just, not now. He wondered if he could get them to leave. Reaching the door, the room suddenly felt far too warm, making the cold that he let it almost welcome. The people that intended to come in with the cold, less so.

There were two of them, standing there, just as he knew there would be. Mathias and Lukas stared at him with nearly opposite expressions. The amber-tinted blond who waved excitedly and grinned at him was a Dane. Mathias was excitable and sporadic, and sometimes Berwald wanted to tear his head off. Still, sometimes he could be enjoyable. Next to him, the shorter man stared ahead with a blank face and blank eyes, looking irritated or perhaps bored. Lukas understood Berwald better than any of the others, but sometimes he could be rather frightening. Those near-purple eyes just seemed to lack any amount of consciousness, but the times he had seen them gleam were usually moments before something big happened.

"Hi-ya Ber!" Mathias shouted gleefully, stepping loudly and boldly over the threshold.

Berwald remained firmly in place, not moving to allow either of them in, but then realized that Mathias was keeping his arm fairly close to his body, an abnormality for the animated Dane. Upon closer inspection, he could see bandages on his right arm.

"What happened to you?" Berwald asked. "Shoot yerself again?"

He crinkled up his nose in a sneer, but then shook his head. "Got in a tussle…with a German soldier."

Berwald couldn't even pretend to hide his surprise. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped, not all the way, but just enough to part his lips.

"Lukas shot the bastard, though," he told his frozen expression, nodding to the pale, blond Norwegian next to him.

"Shot 'em dead?" he asked quietly after a moment of meeting Lukas' intense gaze.

He began to shake his head, but the Dane spoke over him. "Nah, just in the leg, but still, the fucker turned around and ran!"

Berwald's ears began to ring, stunned by what he was hearing. Could…no. Could it be? That was impossible, right?

Lukas' eyes flashed suddenly. How the hell did he know these things?

He didn't ask anything, they just stared at each other.

"But it's fuckin' cold out here, aren't you going to let us in?" Mathias demanded, still trying to sound cheerful and carry a lively attitude.

"Or, are we interrupting something?" Lukas asked knowingly.

Shit.

Mathias was catching on, looking between them before discarding his smile and his voice darkening a bit.

"What?"

Berwald swallowed, nearly gulped, and then stepped back to let them in. "We…have a situation,"

Neither of them spoke back, simply entered the shut the door. Then, Berwald straightened himself up a bit, and nodded down the hallway before leading them towards his bedroom. They followed him, Mathias' loud steps to match Lukas' catlike ones, but with each step closer his heart was pounding louder. He had no idea how they would react, nor how the German would respond. He didn't quite know how to justify saving him, especially when he had apparently shot Mathias, but everything he knew about the stupid Dane told him that he had been asking for trouble. Where the hell had he found a German to get shot by, anyway?

Reaching the door Berwald paused with his fingers on the cold knob, and then glanced at them both, and they both stood a bit straighter, trying to look prepared as his expression asked. Then, he cleared his throat, and pushed open the door.

The soldier was still in bed, sitting just as he had left him, his back slightly propped against the backboard and the pillows, staring at the door with fairly calm, questioning eyes. That is, until he saw Mathias and Lukas behind his shoulders. Then, the blood drained from his face so fast Berwald thought he was going to faint.

"What the fuck…?" Mathias rasped as they entered a bit further, although Berwald was careful to make sure he was close enough to still be between them.

"Berwald?" Lukas asked slowly after a moment of tense silence.

"Found him, in the forest, bleedin'." he explained, trying to keep the timidity out of his voice.

"Of course he was bleeding! We shot him!" Mathias roared and out of the corner of his eye, Berwald could see the soldier flinch a bit.

"But who was shot _first_?" he demanded bitterly, not really sure if this was going the way he had wanted it to and his anger making words harder.

Mathias' face turned red with his quick anger, but Lukas breathed out deeply for him. "Shut it. We need to figure out what to do with him now."

There was a pause while the two taller men broke their intense stare down and threw their gazes to the man between them. If nothing else, Berwald liked Lukas because he was logical.

"You know you could get in a lot of trouble, Ber, if anyone finds out you took him here." Lukas told him with his calm eyes.

He hadn't known, but he trusted Lukas' word. He was more familiar with the laws than the lawmakers.

"What the hell did you plan to do with him, anyway?" Mathias demanded, ignoring a glare from Lukas. "Just patch him up and send him right back to Germany with a slap on the back? You some kind of goddamned medic?"

Berwald stared for a moment and then looked at the soldier who looked back at him in confusion. "Don't know."

Mathias spluttered in his anger, but Lukas stepped forward, walking passed them to the bed. Ludwig sat up a bit more, looking obviously nervous, but as if he were trying to hide it.

"You remember us?" it was strange to hear German awkwardly fall from Lukas' lips, and the soldier seemed surprised too.

After a moment he glanced at Mathias, and then nodded.

Lukas glanced over his shoulder, those dull eyes meeting Berwald's. "That's not good."

He didn't respond. The Norwegian turned back.

"What were you doing, out on the road?" he asked.

Ludwig's eyes suddenly hardened as his intense eyebrows lowered a bit. He didn't want to tell him.

"Has he told _you_ anything?" Mathias asked Berwald.

Berwald began to shake his head and then stopped and grunted. "Name's Ludwig."

"Cute, you named the puppy," he said mockingly.

"That's enough," Lukas snapped at him before Berwald could punch him in the nose and then stood. "Come on, we shouldn't talk about this in front of him anyway. Let's just talk in the kitchen."

They both watched Lukas nod to the German, who looked too stunned to do anything, and then he led the way out. For a moment, Mathias looked like he wasn't going to leave, but rather, stay and glare at Berwald, but Lukas snatched him hard by his injured arm and dragged him out. Before he left, Berwald glanced back at a very confused looking Ludwig.

"Just wait here," he said awkwardly. "We'll be back,"

Ludwig nodded to him and then he stepped out, shutting the door softly.

"Well, fuck," Mathias said as he and Lukas already sat at the small dining table.

"We can't tell anyone," Lukas mumbled, but more to himself than to the others.

Berwald sat down too, after he and Mathias exchanged a tense glance, and then they both looked to the peace keeping Norwegian

"What do you think he was doing on the road anyway?" Mathias asked after a moment.

Lukas shrugged as he closed his eyes and reopened them slowly. "I don't know…deserting, maybe? A German train had been scheduled for yesterday; he could have been on it,"

The word was enough to make Berwald and Mathias' backs tense. If they shared nothing else, it was a strong, ancient sense of honor.

There was a long stretch of silence and then Lukas sighed.

"Well, even if he wants to go back to Germany, he can't. He knows too much knowing me and Mat's faces," Lukas was always cautious, even if sometimes it bordered on the verge of paranoia; he was the only one they entrusted any kind of explosives to.

"I'm sure he'll take that well," Mathias sneered.

"Well, if he was already leavin'," Berwald muttered. "Maybe he doesn't want to go back,"

"Defecting…" Lukas said and again they lapsed into silence.

"Well, even if he is," Mathias cleared his throat with his eyes low before continuing. "We can't just let him leave, can we? He could still try to turn us in,"

"Has he said anything else, Ber?" Lukas asked.

He shook his head.

"Does he know your name?" he asked suddenly and Berwald's inability to meet his eyes gave him his answer.

"Shit." Mathias sighed; that annoyed him more than it probably should have.

"We couldn't send him back, not without fear of him reporting us," Lukas murmured.

"I don't want to go back," a voice suddenly said in awkward Swedish behind them, and they all whirled around to see the German standing in the hallway.

Berwald honestly couldn't believe he was standing as his eyes immediately fell from his exhausted and pain expression to his leg and feet.

Silently, Lukas pushed out a chair with his foot; it was partially a silent invitation, but also a test to see if he could make it. Lukas was like that. Ludwig tried to walk with strength, but it looked extremely painful. After they all watched him hobble it to the chair and sit, they all looked back at Lukas who had thus taken charge of this whole foreign relations disaster.

"Why don't you want to go back?" Lukas asked.

"Because," he swallowed and his eyes dropped shamefully. "They set me up. I was supposed to be sent to prison."

Lukas and Berwald both exchanged a shocked expression while Mathias, who looked too angry to speak, stared intently between them.

"Set you up?" Lukas asked.

He nodded. "Some of the other soldier in my unit, they framed me. They wanted me sent away."

"Why?" his eyes were still dull and his face still expressionless, but Berwald could see his curiosity lying beneath.

"I don't know, I didn't really get a chance to ask them before they chained me up." he said with anger, but it wasn't directed at Lukas and he was instead glaring at the table.

Lukas sat back and looked at Mathias who frowned in distrust as they both folded their arms. Then, when something had been silently communicated, they both looked to Berwald.

"We could keep him here," Lukas said slowly.

"An' after he's healed?" Berwald asked.

"I suppose we could let him go. No matter what we do, it sounds like me and Mat have to lie low for a while, maybe leave town just to be safe," he said.

Berwald grimaced. They had done it before, had to leave town, but the last time they did was when they had taken Tino. His heart suddenly wretched at the realization that he hadn't thought of him since this whole thing had begun.

"There's not much else we can do," Lukas told him looking bored again, as if it was all very obvious.

After a moment of thought, Berwald sighed and nodded with a grunt.

Then, they all turned to Ludwig.

"You can stay here, until you're healed," Lukas told him in German so he could better understand. "But in exchange, you can never tell anyone of us, any of us. Understood?"

Ludwig stared, but then gave a steady nod. Lukas nodded too, and then everyone looked at Berwald. He looked at Lukas.

"We should get going then," he told him. "You know how to reach us,"

With that, he and the tall Dane simply stood, and went to the door.

"And Ber?" Lukas called.

"Hm?" he asked, raising his head to look at him.

"Be careful. There've been patrols out. It's best just to stay inside for now." Lukas told him, and then opened the door.

The wind reached all the way in to brush his face before they left, but not before he and Mathias exchanged a strange look that was something between a farewell and the desire to tell the other to go to hell.

The door shut again and Berwald stood, walking over and locking it. For a moment, he watched them walk away out the window, but then he sighed and turned around. Ludwig was looking at him, looking wretched.

"You okay?" he asked

Ludwig nodded and offered something like a small smile. "Thank you, Berwald."

This surprised him, enough to make him stutter, so he coughed. "'It's nothin'. Now come on, ya need to rest,"


	5. Chapter 5

Ludwig lied in bed, staring up at the ceiling in shock.

So, just like that, he was going to stay. Without anything being asked in return except for his silence. He had never had any intention of trying to turn anyone in, certainly not the man who had saved him and had taken care of him for no reason other than for the sake of kindness, but he guessed they couldn't trust that. The other two had been the ones who had attacked him on the road. Maybe Sweden wasn't as big of a place as he thought.

He rolled over in an attempt to make his leg more comfortable, and sighed. Then, he heard the one with the wild hair's words in his mind. _Cute, you named the puppy._ He wasn't sure what that meant, but taken even as a literal meaning, Berwald had just sort of taken him in, like a dog.

He frowned. He wasn't a dog.

The door opened and Berwald entered with a mug of something. Ludwig had to roll back over in order to sit up, and when he did, the large Swede carefully gave him the cup. He couldn't help the questioning look he gave him.

"Tea," he said with a slight shrug, almost as if he was embarrassed. "It'll help,"

Ludwig blinked. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

He nodded, and Ludwig feared another staring contest, but when he sipped at the drink and swallowed it without a fuss, Berwald simply walked over to the chair and sat down again, reaching for his book. Ludwig wasn't sure he could rest properly with someone watching him, but, the tall man began to read, and he relaxed.

He drank at the tea gingerly; it was warm and it tasted as pleasant as it smelt. Slowly, he felt the tense, sore muscles in his back and shoulders beginning to loosen and his breathing steadily grew deeper. By the time he had finished the tea, his eyelids were feeling heavy, despite how much he had slept in the past day and a half.

Berwald looked up over the rims of his glasses before he stood, setting the book down, and walked over to the bed. Ludwig let him take the cup, and then settled down deeper into the blankets. The man above him gently, if not awkwardly, helped him get situated, and then settled the covers over his shoulder, as if he was tucking him in. It surprised him a bit, but he realized that it must have been purely an act of kindness…like everything else he had done for him.

"Thank you, Berwald," he muttered, surprising himself with how sleepy he sounded.

He just grunted with a nod, and then left the room almost silently.

As the door clicked shut, Ludwig let a few absent thoughts flow through his mind before drifting off to sleep. One of them was that Berwald smelt kind of nice.

That night, he dreamed darkly. Visions of past battles, of building on fire with people still in them, of screams from people of every age in all directions. It was utterly horrific, but it was him, standing there gun-in-hand, who was harming people, not helping them. In a bizarre way, he felt he almost knew he was dreaming; he just couldn't figure out how to get out of his dream. He scrambled down alleyway and through broken houses, but no matter how fast he went, he always could hear the screams surrounding him. The fire wasn't far, either.

Ludwig couldn't escape, not alone anyway. It wasn't until he felt the hand of another that he was able to pull himself up from unconsciousness, and awoke. It took a few minutes of breathing irregularly and looking around in panic before his heart began to slow, and remembered where he was. As he began to register things faster, he sensed a bit of warmth flowing into his shoulder, and when he turned his head, he found himself staring directly into a pair of blue eyes through a pair of clear glasses.

"Berwald?" he managed to choke out in a whisper after a moment.

"Ya okay?" he asked.

A tremble went through his body and his injured leg seized terribly. For a moment, there was nothing but sheer pain flooding through him, but then he managed to grit his teeth and suck in a breath.

"Leg," he choked out.

Berwald moved swiftly from his side down the bed to his leg where he threw the covers off in a single, smooth motion. He saw that the bandage over the actual injury was fine, but that the muscle was twisting sickly as it cramped severely. He shut his eyes tightly as the muscle coiled tighter around itself, forcing his foot to twist awkwardly, but then he felt Berwald's strong fingers carefully disentangling the muscle. His leg seemed to want to fight him to stay twisted, but he sternly massaged it out, rolling his warm fingers and palms over his calf, though still being careful of the bullet wound.

After a few more seconds of pain, the muscle finally resigned and allowed itself to be pushed back into its proper place and Ludwig groaned a bit. Berwald gently pulled his hands back, aware that the muscle was now very tender.

"Ya okay?" Berwald asked again after a minute.

Ludwig nodded, but then remembered that it was still dark and sighed. "Yeah,"

After another moment Berwald grunted and then stood, and began walking back to the door.

"Wait," he said in realization.

The Swede's blond hair was shining even in the impossibly dim light from the window, and when he turned, he saw his glasses glint a little.

"Hm?" he asked.

"Are you sleeping on the couch?" he asked.

Now that he thought about it, from what he recalled of his trip out of the bedroom, he remembered the couch in question as seeming rather short.

He grunted in affirmation.

"Oh," Ludwig said lamely, and then awkwardly cleared his throat. "Would you rather sleep here? I can go to the couch,"

Berwald's eyebrows lowered a bit and he seemed confused. "It's alright. Yer hurt,"

Feeling guilty that Berwald would condemn himself to the couch for the sake of a total stranger, he wiggled over a bit in the large bed.

"Well, then, why don't we just share the bed? Then no one has to be on the couch." he said, his determination to do what he felt was proper outweighing his awkward social skills.

He was visibly surprised. "…Ya sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

Berwald glanced away, seeming to have a conversation with himself, but then nodded and slowly made his way over to the bed. Ludwig scooted over more for him, feeling the cool part of the sheets brushing against his exposed skin. He wondered if Berwald felt more awkward than he did, since being a soldier he was familiar with sleeping close to several men at once even on normal occasions. Yet, Berwald's only concern seemed to be making sure he didn't bump his injured leg as he slid beneath the covers next to him.

They lied there for a moment in such utter silence that Ludwig swore he could hear their hearts pumping out of sync.

"Hey," he coughed as the words stuck in his throat. "Why did you help me?"

Berwald turned and looked at him with those penetrating eyes. "Hm?"

"You didn't have to. The one who shot me said that you could get in a lot of trouble for it. So, why?" he asked.

He knew about not looking a gift horse in the mouth, but he felt this was important; sometimes motive meant everything.

Berwald stared at him silently, and it took a moment before he realized he was simply holding eye contact while thinking, whereas most people looked away. Suddenly, those awkward staring contests made sense.

"Was the right thing." he shrugged a little.

Ludwig looked down. Did he mean that? That he honestly overlooked borders and nations and wars to help him just because…it would have been wrong to leave him?

"The war wasn't always there. Won't be, either." he continued after a moment. "Can't base everythin' off somethin' temporary."

Their eyes met again, and he dared to try going into deep thought while they looked at each other. Sometimes it definitely felt like the war had always been there. There had always been tension back home. There was always fighting and rules and ideas. It was hard to know what wasn't temporary, honestly.

"How did you know?" Ludwig whispered. "That it was right?"

Berwald might have almost smiled. "…My heart."

If it had been anyone else other than the strange Swede he would have been annoyed to hear something that cheesy. But maybe, just maybe he meant it. And maybe, it was the truth. Hell, anything seemed possible at this point.

After that he was able to relax a bit more, sinking deeper into the bed than before with Berwald's added weight, and with his heat next to him he felt just comfortable enough to fall back asleep. And to stay there.

In fact, he had slept so well that night that he woke up at his regular hour. It annoyed Berwald, but the Swede was stubborn enough to remain asleep. Ludwig realized he didn't mind after a bit though, because even if he was asleep, he felt strangely close to him. Closer to anyone than he had felt in a long time.

He had always been socially awkward. Too uptight. His brother was a life-of-the-party kind of guy, and he was always in the background. Or the one they called to drive them home. He never had any friends, in all honesty. He knew the people his brother ran with, but anyone he talked with outside of that was strictly under business circumstance. Even the soldiers in his troop didn't recognize him as anyone but the bastard that got them up on time. He was a leader, but he led soldiers, and sometimes he felt like that was all he was in the world.

Berwald hummed a bit as droplets of sunlight slipped through the curtains and splashed on his face. Ludwig moved to block them and watched the crease in his brow smooth out. He had a strange feeling that this man, Berwald, didn't think of him as a soldier and nothing more. He wasn't sure what exactly he thought of him as, but in a secret way, he thought that he might even get up the nerve to ask him eventually.

"How long ya gonna stare at me?" the deep voice suddenly grumbled into the pillow.

"Until you get up." he answered without missing a beat.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and Ludwig expected him to reach for his glasses, but instead he rolled over a little more. "Ya can stare for a bit longer."

Ludwig smiled a bit with faint amusement. At least he knew what he thought of Berwald; he liked him.

That evening, after dinner, Berwald sat with him while he cleaned his gun, which he did in a manner that suggested it was something he did as part of a routine. They talked a little about his gun and about guns in general, since it was something they were both familiar with, but even when they were silent for long periods of time, it was comfortable. He liked the company, and it beat just sitting there and trying to see if he could watch the skin on his leg and his feet healing in real time. Berwald's hands were smooth and fluent as they worked. They weren't what he'd call nimble, exactly, and sometimes he fumbled with the smaller pieces, but Ludwig absently thought that he could set music to most of his movements. Beethoven might work.

After he finished and the sun had set, Ludwig found himself waiting to see if the Swede had the intention of repeating the previous night's sleeping arrangement. After a few minutes of waiting, the tall man reappeared in the doorway, in his pajamas. He didn't approach, however, and instead opted to shift awkwardly on his feet. Ludwig, in a desperate attempt not to botch this situation like he had every other social situation he had come across, waited a moment before deciding that simply scooting over would be the best indication of what he wanted. As he did so, the Swede didn't respond as quickly as he had hoped, but after a minute of strained silence, he approached the bed, and got in again.

After that, it became a sort of unspoken tradition that they would eat dinner, chat a bit through the evening, and then Berwald would stand in the doorway until Ludwig moved over so he could share the bed with him. They days continued like that, still fairly long for winter, but shortening a little more with each passing night. Slowly, Ludwig's feet were useable again, and he was able to move around with a wooden crutch that Berwald had made for him. He encouraged him to get up every day, starting with simply moving around the room to venturing out to the kitchen, and after a week, they sat outside on the porch together. It was still cold, but it wasn't as bitter as what he had thought. True, the northern winter had yet to show its true power, but the beautiful view of the Swedish countryside and fresh, crisp air was enough to please him for the entire day.

Later that week, Berwald got a call from the other two, whom he learned were called Mathias and Lukas, informing him that they had made it to their safe place. Berwald informed them that Ludwig was healing well, but that he would probably be with him for a while. Ludwig might have just been imagining it, but he felt as though Berwald was dramatizing his condition. It made him want to laugh. But then, he realized that it meant he would have to leave.

He almost slapped himself. Of course he would. He was a danger. He almost slapped himself again. No, he had to leave because these were some kind of rebels, people fighting even without their homeland backing them, two of which had tried to kill him upon meeting him. The more he saw of Berwald the more he was beginning to see it, he couldn't deny that. He realized that he cleaned and oiled a new gun every week. He saw a strange manner of tools scattered around the drawers. He even spotted dynamite in one of the back rooms. Although Berwald didn't seemed to be, _active_, like Lukas and Mathias apparently were, old habits died hard. His brother had told him that.

There was a strange aching in his chest. It was the same feeling as when he had decided to escape the train. It was the feeling of having to run.

That night, he wasn't able to sleep so easily.


	6. Chapter 6

The end of the month drew near. Ludwig was healing very well, almost unbelievably well, in fact. He had claimed to be a quick healer, but Berwald was still surprised when one morning he stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and found him making coffee, the crutch resting against the dining table, unused. His improved mobility seemed to cheer him up a bit, as he was suddenly smiling and laughing more, but it also led the German into a habit of following him around during the day. Yet, he found that he didn't mind it at all.

When Tino had been with him, he felt bad for having left him inside the house alone during most of the day while he worked, but Ludwig went so far as to even sit and watch him while he chopped firewood. He wasn't sure why he did that, but figured that he probably couldn't stand to sit around inside the house and do nothing. This extended contact did eventually lead to extended conversations, slowly but surely. After the first real winter storm had come and left the land blanketed in white and they no longer sat on the porch during the cold evenings since it made Ludwig's leg ache, he had given in and told Ludwig everything he knew about Sweden. He had never traveled much, not even between towns, and even less with the way things were now, but still, Ludwig seemed to have an infinite amount of questions, and he did his best to answer them.

After a few nights of this, the topic suddenly changed. Ludwig asked about his family. He must have looked surprised but the German didn't waver, so he told him. Berwald never had any brothers or sisters and she had never known his parents. He had lived with his grandmother nearly his entire life up until she died when he was fifteen, and then he moved to the town they were in now. That was when he met Lukas.

"But, Lukas isn't Swedish," Ludwig said, but it sounded like a question.

He shook his head. "Norwegian. Moved here in '36."

Ludwig's eyes stared into the fire, into memory. "Yeah, he seemed, not, Swedish,"

After he spoke he appeared to realize that it wasn't what he had meant to say, and Berwald chuckled a little. Ludwig then turned to look at him in moderate astonishment.

"What?" he asked, feeling rather self-conscious under his wide-eyed stare.

"…Nothing." he said after a moment, but Berwald saw a strange smile on his lips.

It took a day or two, but Berwald began to notice something after that night. Although, he wasn't sure what it was that he was noticing. It seemed like Ludwig was trying to joke with him more, occasionally actually telling jokes in order to get him to smile. Most of his smiles ended in confused expressions, but he continued with this. Unsure of what else to do, or of what Ludwig wanted him to do, he make an effort to joke back.

His first attempt was so awkward that Ludwig stared at him in utter shock for a few moments, but then threw his head back and laughed loudly. Berwald had never felt so relieved in his life. He tried to promise himself that he wouldn't do it again, but he found that Ludwig looked unbelievably happy when he smiled, and that his laugh sounded nice, too. It wouldn't hurt to try a few more times…

Strangely, though, Ludwig laughed at a lot of things he said. It shocked him to the point where sometimes he would simply stare in disbelief at the German while he laughed. Not many people had ever found him funny. In fact, he gathered that most people thought he was intimidating. He didn't try to, but he was taller than most of the people he met, not that it was something that he could help. His strength, too, might have seemed daunting, but years of manual labor and jobs with various construction and lumber companies could result in nothing less. Perhaps Ludwig was able to look passed his appearance; he was a solider after all, taught to fear nothing, not even a tall Swede. The more he thought of this, the more he found he was rather touched by the fact that Ludwig could laugh at his jokes and sarcasm. He began to wonder if this meant Ludwig was beginning to consider him a friend.

Almost as if to prove his wondering, Ludwig began to tell Berwald things about his own family. He told him that he and his brother had lived with their grandparent most of their lives, too. He spoke of his grandfather with great admiration though, and Berwald smiled at the way his eyes seemed to almost shine. He listened to his story with interest, but noticed the way he paused when he began to talk about when he and his brother had been signed on to join the army. Berwald didn't press anything. After that, he didn't seem to want to speak of his family anymore, and although Berwald wanted to ask about his homeland he swallowed his curiosity; he had no intention of forcing him to think on painful thoughts, it wasn't good for injured people to do that anyway.

Instead, as he fumbled for a topic to switch to, but still only really able to think of Germany, he looked at him and asked if he could read in Swedish. Ludwig seemed surprised, but nodded. Berwald swallowed and tapped his fingers together a bit, feeling awkward. He couldn't read in German. When he told Ludwig this and asked him if he might consider teaching him a little, those pale blue eyes lit right back up. He seemed to latch on to the idea, and somehow, a few moments, a pen, and a sheet of paper later, Berwald found himself in the middle of a language lesson.

Ludwig was a very patient teacher, even though Berwald felt it took him far too long to understand what he was being taught. Part of the issue came simply from a lack of vocabulary, which Ludwig seemed happy to supply. Between their shared knowledge of German and Swedish, they were able to find the words they needed without much struggle, even if it led to awkward hand gestures and poor sketches of objects and adjectives.

They both stayed up much later than Berwald had intended in asking for the lesson, but as they staggered to bed, Ludwig told him that he had ever intention to continue it tomorrow. He said that it was important to learn to write in German, but the reason became muffled in the pillow as he lied down, almost instantly asleep. Berwald chuckled quietly to himself for several minutes before he too lost consciousness.

Happy fools, he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Ludwig pushed himself downwards. Both into a creeping stance as well as into a mentally shielded position.

A week ago he had realized that it would be necessary for him to leave. Since he hadn't been quiet healed enough to do so, however, he had tried to push the thought back. To buy time. In that time he had been speaking more and more with Berwald, joking and laughing as though they had been friends for ages. He also had started teaching him how to read in German. He was picking it up fast, faster than Ludwig had expected, but there was no more time. He had to leave, somehow that seemed sickeningly clear to him. The place he had tried to keep it in the back of his mind was now bitter, and the taste was beginning to bleed into everything else.

The previous morning, Berwald had smiled at him in greeting, even as tired as he was, and although it made him want to grin back stupidly in response, the bitterness made his heart wrench instead. He tried to hide the sickness that was brought on by the thought of leaving, but that night when he awoke, the Swede, although asleep, seemed to sense that he was upset, and he searched for his hand in order to pat it and then to his surprise, he held it. It was in that moment that Ludwig realized he truly never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay with Berwald, here, in this house, in this magnificent country. But, there was nothing to do about it. He couldn't stay; he just couldn't. He pulled his hand free of Berwald's.

He felt his mind falling back to the old training methods, the kind for when he was heading to battle. He forgot the grander scheme of things, he ignored his personal views on whatever he was doing, and most importantly, he narrowed his thinking to simple, objective-based thoughts.

Get to the bedroom door.

His body obeyed, slow and steady, crawling forward, low to the ground, and moving out of the slightly opened door. He was well enough to move without the crutch most places, but he had purposely set it near the front door earlier that day. He would need it later.

He reached the door and pushed it the rest of the way opened. It didn't creak; Berwald kept all the hinges in the house meticulously oiled. Fighting his mind for control, he chose not try to indulge or acknowledge the fact that he appreciated someone taking so much care of their house. He moved with his back facing the larger man still sleeping on the bed, but as he turned when he slid out the door, he caught a glimpse of his platinum hair shimmering like pale gold in the moonlight from the window. He bit his cheek until it bled and focused on his next task.

Get jacket.

Even when he was out of the room, he remained in his low stance as he moved down the hallway next to the wall, remembering which parts of the hall creaked, and carefully avoiding them. Once he was out of the hallway, he cautiously rose until he stood nearly at full height. He kept his knees bent, more of a habit than anything else. He spotted his jacket from where he had left it draped over the couch and moved slowly to get it. His boots sounded incredibly loud on the wood floor, but he was certain it was just his heightened hearing. He would just move slower. A year seemed to pass from the time he carefully removed his jacket from the couch's possession to the time he switched to his last task.

Get to the front door.

He turned and began towards the door, but he felt it happened too fast, and suddenly he was standing at the door, his fingers frozen to the cold doorknob, the wooden crutch securely under his arm now.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't let himself think. Not now. Not when he was so close…

"Ludwig?" if his muscles hadn't been so tense already, he might have screamed.

Instead, somehow, everything in his body countered everything else, and he held absolutely still except for the slight, instinctive twitch in his neck that allowed him to turn his head just enough to Berwald standing in the opening of the hallway, his hand on the wall for balance as he staggered out of sleep.

He stared back, even as the terror changed from a sharp, stabbing sensation to a dull, painfully binding feeling. There was nothing he could think to say.

"Ya leavin'?" he rasped after a moment.

He simply stared, uncertain he could have gotten his voice to work even if he had thought of something to respond with.

"It's okay. You can go. I won't stop ya," he said when he didn't answer him, whispering as if it would be considered rude to speak at full volume, even though they were the only ones in the house.

Ludwig couldn't blink. Berwald would let him go. Of course he would. Gentle Berwald…

Yet, his military mind tugged him harshly. That was enough. He grunted with something like a nod, and in a single, nearly panicky motion, he unlocked the door, opened it, and moved over the threshold, shutting the door behind him harder than he'd meant to.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: This chapter is short. I don't have it in my heart to make it any longer.

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The second the door shut, he fell.

His knees could have broken the floorboards with the weight of his collapse, but he honestly didn't think he would have noticed.

A sick tremble wracked his body and he brought both of his hands up weakly to cover his face. Why did everyone he loved leave him? Was he being punished for something?

The tears began to flow, but there was no way to stop them. There was nothing now. Just him. He was always the one left in the house alone. When his grandmother died, when Mathias had taken Lukas and left, when Tino had disappeared, and now Ludwig was gone. He had thought Ludwig had been growing to like him and he had given no sign of preparing to leave. All of his words had been warm and friendly. Berwald had thought he might have even been considering staying with him.

But no.

He had planned to leave in the night. Berwald would have woken up alone in the morning. He wasn't sure his heart could have handled that. Not that he was handling this, but at least he had looked him in the eyes when he did it. At least he knew…

Berwald tried to wish that he had only been given time to prepare, but that was a lie. He never would have been able to accept Ludwig leaving; he knew that now that he was gone. Ludwig's arrival felt like it had helped him cope with Tino's absence, but now, they hardly felt comparable. When Tino had disappeared, he hadn't known right away if it had been purposeful. He had searched for him for days, and after the letter he received, he simply felt weak with sadness.

This was different. This sadness seemed to be devouring him from the inside, making him want to double up on himself until it consumed him completely, and he disappeared, too.

"Why?" he whispered, but no one answered; there was no one there to hear him.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you guys for your reviews ^-^ I'll try to keep the story going as quickly as I can!

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He didn't make it a quarter of a mile from the house before he stopped.

The night outside was a drastic change from the warm, soft dark of the inside of house. Outside, the polished night sky of the north shone with such clarity that it put everything else to shame. Including the glistening, contrasting world around him. Including him.

The disciplined part of his mind scolded him for stopping, but when he didn't continue, he felt as if he was nearly screaming at himself. Then, regardless of how he tried to stop it, the rest of his mind opened up, and he was forced to face it all.

Thoughts of warm fires at night and clear, icy morning flooded his immediate mind, and in a panicked way the other half of his mind argued that that's exactly what he intended to have. But, it wouldn't be the same. Because he knew that in all of those thoughts, those memories, and those fantasies, he wasn't alone. He also knew exactly who was with him.

The dazzling image of Berwald's smile lit up the dark world around him enough to make it seem like day. Thoughts of them sitting on the porch together, of going to bed every night, of Ludwig showing him how to read in German, and of Berwald teaching him how to work with wood flashed through his mind with so much power he felt he had taken a punch to the chest, but they didn't stop. He shyly imagined being curled up with him under a blanket, his head on his shoulder while Berwald absently rested his cheek on his head, and their rough hands entwining on Berwald's long thigh. He grinned like an idiot when he thought about the way he had woken him up so awkwardly in German one morning, and then how he had tried to explain that it was so he wouldn't panic at the unfamiliar sound of a Swedish greeting. It was so deeply touching that he felt his eyes sting a bit, and then he realized something with an audible gasp.

He had left all of that. Berwald had followed him when he had left the bed, and yet, Ludwig had turned his back on him. After everything that sweet, gentle man had done, he had left…

Ludwig wasn't an idiot. There were many things about relationships that he didn't understand, but he knew love. There didn't seem to be any way to avoid recognizing it, actually. Here, in the middle of the night, it was demanding to be acknowledged. So he did.

Telling his disciplined mind to fuck off, he whirled around and threw the crutch down. His eyes were made blurry by tears but he gritted his teeth together and sprinted back towards the house. His left leg and his feet screamed at him but he ignored their protests and ran as hard as he could back the way he had so stupidly come. He prayed the door wouldn't be locked. Or that if it was, at least Berwald might consider opening it, even if he had to pound on it all night and shout his apologies through a closed door.

He reached said door and braced himself. Without slowing his speed by as much as would be proper, he extended his arm and gripped the handle. He twisted it harshly, expecting resistance, but when it twisted simply and fell open, he nearly tripped, which would have sent him sprawling over the threshold. He didn't, although his entrance wasn't any subtler, and the door harshly smashed off the wall behind it as he skidded inside.

Ludwig's vision took a few moments to adjust to the dark lighting, but the light from the open door helped. To his dismay, he saw Berwald in the exact same spot at the entrance to the hallway. However, he was no longer leaning on the wall for support. He was on the ground, on his knees, half collapsed. He looked up as Ludwig entered crudely, and he saw the unmistakable shimmer of light below both of his eyes before his glasses gleamed and he wiped them away.

God, what had he done?

"Lud-?" he croaked out.

Ludwig cursed and lunged forward, falling hard to his knees in front of him. Berwald's eyes were wide now, tinged with a dark color he realized to be red, and looked utterly shocked. The defeated German didn't spare a second more than necessary as he pulled Berwald up to his knees by his shoulders, and then smashed their chests together in a crushing embrace.

After a moment of stunned silence, Berwald grunted in a broken manner, and wrapped his arms around him too, clasping his back and shoulder. Ludwig had embraced him for several reasons, but one of them was to help prevent himself from crying. It backfired, however, and the terrible wrenching in his chest was amplified by the kindness in Berwald's touch. As sobs wracked his body and his lungs forced his breathing to come out in awkward hiccups and uneven gasps, he cried out loudly that he was sorry, begging for forgiveness.

Berwald seemed to have a hard time understanding the guttural German he spoke in his distress, but then he held him tighter, his long, strong arms pressing them together harder. After a moment, when Ludwig still hadn't been able to compose himself, he reached up a cautious hand, and stroked his hair. The action was so simple, and so, like him, that Ludwig stopped sobbing instantly, and instead almost laughed.

"Damnit, Berwald," he said, his voice was uneven as the tears flowed still, and he was speaking too loud, but he knew that he heard the smile.

He knew because the Swede pulled back looking confused.

"Ya came back," he said after a moment, his eyebrows familiarly furrowed along the line of his glasses as his own tears pooled in the rims of his eyes.

Ludwig nodded, sparing a glance at the open door, feeling the cold creeping in.

"Why?" he asked and their eyes met again.

He looked down, something he rarely did, but something that felt almost necessary for him to collect the thoughts that had assaulted him earlier.

"I…I realized that I, didn't want to leave," he told him lamely.

"Oh," Berwald mumbled looking somehow disappointed as his eyes dropped too.

"And," Ludwig said, again too loud, but Berwald's head lifted back up.

But how could he say it? How could he tell him that he couldn't stand the thought of not being by his side? How could he, a traitorous German solider, tell this honorable, perfect man that he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his damned life trying to make him happy? Waking up with him, going to bed with him, working, and cooking, and just _living _with him?

Ludwig realized that he couldn't. Not at that moment, anyway. So when the moment began to waver in its age, he summoned all of his courage, feeling even the disciplined half of his mind conspire to give him the strength to act, and reached forward.

Berwald's eyes watched the hand approach him, looking surprised when it touched his face. For half of a second, his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and Ludwig's eyes widened in disbelief at how soft and warm his skin was. Then, when those deep, dark eyes opened, Ludwig set the rest of his body into motion, and, with more confidence than he felt, moved forward, and pressed their lips together.

He felt the taller man startle, but the small jerk wasn't enough to pull their lips apart, so Ludwig leaned forward further and kissed him with a bit more pressure. His lips were so warm and tender and even as they were completely motionless, and Ludwig felt himself melting. Those pink, gentle lips were touching his. The result flooded his muscles with warmth.

Gaining more confidence from the kiss, he began to carefully move his lips in actual kissing motions, as opposed to simple pressure. He swore, it stopped his heart. He knew Berwald's lips were perfect, but he didn't realize that Berwald's lips were perfect for _his_. They fit, they locked, and as he tilted and moved, the beautiful way they created suction, without Berwald even participating, was utterly stunning. Stunning in a good way. Hell, in the best of ways.

After being mentally blinded by the desire to kiss him being fulfilled, his lips registered something. Something impossible. So, his mind sent this information back, and ordered his lips to double check and correct their report. The report came back the same.

Berwald was kissing him back. Berwald, the handsome, sweet, yet most socially-awkward man he had ever known, was kissing him back. That wasn't the end of the report, either. It felt _amazing_, but even that couldn't do justice to how unbelievably, exquisitely wonderful it was making him feel. He was sweet and slow, but not unskilled. For a moment, a pang of jealousy wracked his body at the thought that any other could have kissed his Berwald, but the thought dissipated when he felt a large, calloused hand cautiously touched his face. As they kissed, he tilted his head further to lean into the touch, feeling the warmth combat the cold that was still invading the house through the open door.

Somehow, very much against his will, the kiss eventually ended. He felt those divine lips part from his, and his whole body gave a shutter as the cold enveloped him in their absence. After a second, he realized his eyes were closed, and quickly opened them. They were met with Berwald's intense stare. The taller man pinned him, his eyes darting between his, searching for something. Ludwig stared back, unsure of what he was looking for, but ready to give him anything. To give him everything.

"Ludwig?" he asked in a short whisper.

He only said his name, but Ludwig knew what he was asking.

"I love you," he blurted out gracelessly, feeing his tongue tingle with those words. "And, and I want to be with you, here,"

The giant Swede seemed literally frozen for a second, and then the whole house lurched and rolled. Ludwig's vision caught up when he was lying on his back, Berwald smothering him in a giant hug on the floor. The force of the embrace pinned his arms to his sides, removing both of their hands from each other's faces. Since he couldn't hug him back with his arms pinned down, and with Berwald showing no immediate intention to release them, once his mind registered what was happening, he tucked himself into the warm junction of Berwald's neck and shoulder. He pressed his left cheek to the side of his neck and his lips silently to his large shoulder. The smell was unbelievably intoxicating.

"Love ya," he choked out in a quiet, deep voice next to his ear. "I love ya too."

Their hearts were pounding so loudly that Ludwig thought that it would be audible to anyone passing by outside. Berwald's response was an acknowledgement of his feelings, and the return of his own. Ludwig hadn't honestly expected anything like that; he thought that, at best, Berwald would _tolerate_ his doting presence. In his mind, he'd imagined having to slowly win over his affection with unrelenting gestures of love. This was so unexpected that, to his dismay, he felt like crying again.

Then, there was a sharp, splitting crack that cut through the air and their tender moment. It was a sound both Ludwig and Berwald knew well; a gunshot had torn through the silence of the night.

Berwald's head snapped up as he pulled Ludwig momentarily closer in a defensive reflex, ready to protect him. Ludwig might have protested, as he was a soldier still, he would be the one to defend them if need be, but, instead he just waited tensely underneath him, his ears straining to hear anything more.

Without word or warning Berwald pulled away and stood up, moving to the open door in three long strides. He stared out for a moment, and then shut it quickly and locked it tight. Then he drew the curtains and went to the fireplace against the wall, putting it out. The house had already had most of its heat sucked out by the open door, but with the fire out and Berwald's body absent from his, Ludwig felt the cold beginning to surround him.

"We'll have to keep it out," he said as he closed the other curtains covering the window nearest to the fire.

Ludwig stood up slowly, worry growing in his chest. "Ber?"

He seemed distracted for a moment, but then turned around and crossed the room again just as quickly. He stopped awkwardly with hardly any space between them, and in a fit of not seeming to know how to initiate touching again, he extended his fingers and touched his hand.

"It's okay, just to be safe," he told him in a manner that Ludwig realized was reassuring.

He nodded and smiled, but then a shiver ran up his spine and Berwald's brow immediately furrowed in concern. Without speaking further, he took Ludwig by the hand by wrapping the three fingers which were touching him around his palm in an unbearably endearing way, and led him back to the bedroom. Berwald entered and began to pull down the blankets, adding a few on top, and then stood back and grunted for Ludwig to get in. He removed his shoes, carefully, and pulled off his jacket, and then went to get into the bed.

"Yer sleepin' like that?" Berwald asked, arching his eyebrow at his dark green combat pants.

For a moment, he thought that he was suspicious, maybe even worried that he would try to leave again, but then he realized that Berwald probably just thought they would be uncomfortable. He had to smother a grin.

"Oh," he said, and then began to move out of them.

Berwald's face grew red enough to glow, even in the dark, and he looked away quickly.

Ludwig couldn't help it; he laughed as he stood in his tank top, boxers, and socks, and then to save Berwald from death by embarrassment, he climbed into the bed. The blushing Swede pulled the covers over his shoulders for him, and then walked around the bed and slid in on his side. Eagerly, Ludwig rolled to his side and stared at the man next to him who had just professed his love in return.

Berwald, being himself, had opted to lie defensively on his back, and then simply shut his eyes. Ludwig had no intention of letting him off so easily, and affectionately cuddled up to him, molding his body against the side of Berwald's and resting his head on his shoulder. After feeling his entire body tense under his touch, Ludwig felt his arm rise, and for a moment he thought he was going to push him away, but then the arm fell down around his shoulders, and his warm hand pressed against his back.

Ludwig smiled and sighed contentedly, and then he heard Berwald swallow nervously. As he tilted his head up to ask what was wrong, he felt Berwald's warm lips place an affectionate kiss on his forehead. He was stunned enough to blush.

"Cute." Berwald muttered as his other hand came up to brush Ludwig's cheek.

He spluttered, trying to say that he wasn't cute, that he was manly as hell, but he was still flustered from the kiss, and the soft fingers that continued to stroke his face.

Berwald smiled a tiny bit, the amusement mostly showing through those dark eyes, and despite the fact that he had just been called cute, Ludwig beamed at the smile, pushing himself up a little bit to look at him more directly. Then he decided that this called for revenge, and pressed a kiss of his own to Berwald's forehead. Instead of being stunned, he simply closed his eyes and smiled. He couldn't have been anymore endearing.

So Ludwig continued, kissing down the bridge of his nose slowly, kissing the tip of his nose, both of his cheeks, his slightly scruffy chin, and then quietly admired his lips before kissing those as well. Berwald let out a soft, deep hum of approval, and kissed him back. It was a gentle kiss; it made him feel warm.

The taller man's chest suddenly swelled as he took in a breath, as one would before speaking, but then there was loud crack as a another gunshot broke through the night, and he froze. He let it out again after a moment, but remained tense.

"Who is it?" Ludwig asked in a low whisper.

"Hunters, probably," he told him in the same whisper. "They pass the border chasin' game, sometimes,"

Ludwig nodded and breathed, trying to tell his irrational mind that there was absolutely no way that German soldiers were anywhere nearby. If anyone was looking for him, they'd have all of Sweden to consider.

"Don't worry," Berwald suddenly told him and pulled him back down so that they were pressed against each other again.

Ludwig nuzzled against him without restraint. His husky smell of earth and pine along with the warmth that seemed to flow from his body in tangible waves was enough to remind his body of how tired he was, and despite his want to remain awake to enjoy this moment, it was only a few minutes before he fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Another short one, but here's the start of Lukas coming back in.

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Damnit. Damn everything. And damn _him_.

"Lukas! Lukas!"

He was turned away, but he didn't need to see him. He knew that wild, fire-blond hair that flowed in a free mess as Mathias bounded up behind him. Lukas tensed, waiting for the moment his heavy arm was going to sling itself around his neck.

Just before he reached him, however, there was a sudden, soft knock at the door. Mathias whirled around and leapt towards the door.

"I got it!" he shouted excitedly.

Sometimes he reminded Lukas of a dog. Lukas turned around to watch him unlock it, and then the door swung open widely.

They both gasped audibly.

"Tino?" Mathias gawked at him.

True enough, Tino's tiny figure stood in the doorway, bundled up in a large jacket and grinning happily.

"Hi," he beamed, waving a little.

"Tino!" he shouted and scooped the small Fin up in a giant hug, his injured arm still held closer to his body. "There you are!"

Lukas stood up and walked over to them, arching his eyebrow a little.

"Here I am!" Tino cooed happily in Mathias' arms, wobbling when he was set down.

He grinned at Lukas, and he couldn't help but smile back. That little guy was just so damned cute; no wonder Berwald liked him so much.

He cleared his throat and looked up. There was a shiny, black car that was parked on the road in front of their house.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"Oh, them?" Tino said, turning and waving at the people in the car. "Those are my cousins. They drove me here."

Lukas arched his eyebrow a bit higher, but they all stood together in the doorway while the car flipped around and drove away without incident. As soon as they were gone, Mathias yanked them all back inside before anything else could happen and slammed the door. Then he turned on Tino and grasped his face in both of his hands, wincing as he fought the sling his left arm was supposed to remain in.

"Are you alright?" he was nearly screaming in his face. "Are you hurt? What did they do?"

Tino shut his eyes and smiled; it was a defense mechanism. "Everything's alright, I'm fine. There was just some family business they needed me for, but it's fine now."

Lukas liked the Fin too, but that was too strange to ignore.

"And, I suppose they're the ones that came and got you?" he asked, his arms still folded.

Both of them looked at him, and then Mathias released his face, and stepped back a little, stopping beside Lukas. The feeling of Mathias getting serious was similar to the feeling of dousing a very hot fire.

Tino quickly became flustered and waved his hands in front of him, still smiling, but in a frantic way. "They had contacted me at Ber's house, sort of, but they got here sooner than I had expected and I didn't have time to explain. I sent a letter,"

Lukas nodded. "We got the letter. It didn't say much,"

He laughed nervously. "I had to write it in a hurry, but it's all done now, I won't need to go back,"

Mathias looked at Lukas with a strangely lost-dog-like look as he silently stared at the Fin, and then he sighed and nodded as his brow creased.

"I believe you." he said with a short breath, and then added. "So calm down."

"What do we do now?" Mathias asked, beginning to recover from his seriousness as he slung a heavy, non-injured arm around Lukas.

Lukas, who had let his defenses fall, was caught off guard and his body was heavily dragged into Mathias' side. He frowned into his shirt, and then pushed away and headed for the bedrooms.

"We should get back to Ber. He'll want to hear the good news." he said shortly.

Tino let out a small squeak of terror and Mathias just laughed. Lukas didn't laugh though. It hurt him, with how much he cared for Berwald, that it had to be little Tino. For the sake of all that was holy, the kid couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him without acting like he was a lamb in the presence of a wolf. Berwald was no wolf. Well, not really. He was just shy. Lukas had known the bastard since he had moved there, and thus knew Berwald better than anyone in the group, and in a sad way, anyone in the world. He had seen how badly hurt Berwald had been that Tino had been taken.

Now, he just wanted to bring him back, even if he didn't think it was exactly a good idea to let Berwald think that Tino could ever feel the same way. No one that good should be allowed to hurt so much. Plus, though he didn't want to admit it any longer, it hurt him to see Berwald hurt.


	11. Chapter 11

He was breathing hard as he carried the heavy bundles of firewood back up the hill towards his house. The small puffs of air faded before he could step through them, though the cold didn't touch him; chopping firewood was a lot of work. But, Berwald didn't mind in the least, he liked to be outside and he appreciated the exercise. Since he wasn't doing as much anymore, sometimes the lack of physical exertion led to a hard time sleeping. Not tonight.

Then as he came up to the crest of the hill where his cozy house was situated, he saw something that nearly made him throw the wood down and run towards his house; there was a car parked in the driveway. There was a moment of sheer terror, then it passed, and then he realized with a grunt at his own stupidity that it was his car.

He had loaned it to Mathias and Lukas so that they could get to the safe house, but apparently they were back. He frowned deeply, and marched a bit faster. He wanted to know what was going on. Not to mention he had no idea how the hell he was going to explain the fact that Ludwig wasn't leaving. Berwald threw the wood down against the side of the house and clapped his hands a little before heading for the front door, hardly blinking. It opened, and as he stepped in he spotted Mathias and Lukas sitting on the couch, Mathias grinning as always, and Lukas looking like he wanted to hit him as always. Then, his heart thumped once, and everything fell into slow motion. Ludwig was sitting in his chair, closest to the fireplace and the window, looking fairly relaxed. However, as he followed his gaze, he spotted someone he couldn't have expected to see.

Tino sat on the other chair, across from Mathias and Lukas. He smiled that same smile. It was him. He was back. He was just fine. Then, he realized he was speaking, and his ears opened to catch what he was saying.

"It was actually kind of nice, being home for a bit," Tino was saying, holding onto a cup with both hands and looked down a bit, his soft voice growing softer. "But, ah, when I asked to come back, I didn't think we'd come back to Ber's. I thought I'd stay with you two."

Berwald's heart must have cracked audibly. Everyone suddenly seemed to realize that he was standing in the doorway, and as they turned, he saw Lukas' eyes close in a painful motion. Tino made that squeal of terror that he did when Berwald appeared in a way that he thought was sudden, and everything fell silent.

He needed to leave. Now.

"Berwald?"

Someone called to him, but he wasn't sure who. It didn't matter. He just couldn't be there, not now. It had been a long time since he'd actually ran, but that's what he did. He whirled around and leapt out the door, flying down the hill at a pace that even shocked himself. It didn't matter. None of it. He just needed to get away.

"Berwald!" that sounded like Mathias.

He didn't care. He ran faster, heading for the trees. He knew his way around his land better than any creature. Weaving between the trees like a hunted animal, he tried to think, but it was futile. He wanted to be somewhere safe, but where was that? Not his goddamn house. When his legs finally began to weaken and he began to slow, he decided it would be okay to stop. If anyone bothered to follow him, they wouldn't find him this far out. He was alone.

Slowing until he leaned against a tree to stop himself, his heavy breathing drowned out all the sounds of the forest, making it feel almost surreal, like he wasn't really there. It was only then that he realized his eyes were struggling to hold back tears. Well, no one would see it here. He ignored the burning in his eyes and instead turned his attention to what had injured him so quickly.

So Tino had come back…but not to see him. He wasn't happy with him, maybe he never had been. The thought was sickening, but not worse than the realization that Tino had left an apparently happy place to come back and be with Lukas and Mathias, but specifically not him. Everything about that hurt in ways he had no way of guarding against. He pressed his hand to his mouth and doubled over slightly, putting the other hand against the tree to hold himself up. He almost couldn't feel the cold. It all just seemed to have come out of nowhere, and so fast. Berwald had been in brawls that hadn't happen so fast nor hurt as bad.

Trying to gather himself up a bit, he put his hands to both sides of his head as he sat back on his heels and began to breathe deep, shaky breaths. Berwald swallowed and tried to figure out what he knew. Tino didn't want to live with him. It hurt like hell knowing that he might never have known that, but he accepted it as best he could. That meant the small Fin wanted to live with Mathias and Lukas. Well, good. Maybe it would help keep the peace with them for a bit. He didn't see either of them as much as he used to, so maybe it would mean he wouldn't have to see Tino as much, either. Despite how much he had hoped to see him again, the thought of even standing near him now made him physically sick.

He grunted and shook his head. Alright. So that was that. What would happen now?

Well, he would have to drag himself back home. It was his home, after all. Lukas and Mathias might have already left with Tino once they saw his reaction, not to mention the roads were always harder to see this time of year after dark. If they were still there, then what? He tried to imagine walking back into the house, bypassing everyone in the living room, and going straight to bed. He was alright with how that looked in his head. Then, what about when Ludwig came to bed?

Oh shit. Ludwig. Berwald slapped himself in the face, his glasses stabbing into the bridge of his nose. He had no idea about Tino. How could he ever explain this? What had happened? As far as he knew, Lukas was the only one who was really aware of the way he felt about Tino; the Fin himself was too fucking scared to look at him and Mathias was too busy being obnoxious to notice. Lukas would never tell, would he? Would he explain to them why he ran out of his own house? Or how badly Tino's words had hurt him? Lukas was quick and observant, and he wondered how long it would be until he realized what was between him and Ludwig. Would he feel Ludwig had a right to know?

Either way, in the disastrous mess of his mind, one thought was clear; he wanted to go to bed. He resolved that that was what he would do.

Pulling himself upright and wiping his eyes roughly though only a tear or two escaped, he settled his glasses on his face and began the trek back. No matter what happened, he would just march straight to the bedroom, change, and go to sleep. Nothing else.

The sun had set when he had been coming home, now the sky was darkening considerably, and he was nearly shivering. Winter was coming fast along with the night, he felt it in his bones. Everything else was too fucking cold to feel anything.

His house seemed to appear much sooner than it should have, and as he approached he saw that the car was still there. With a deep, terrified breath, he narrowed his eyes and went to the front door. It opened, much the same as it had before, but the sound of conversation didn't reach his ears this time. He couldn't stand to look towards the living room, so he entered, shut the door behind him, and marched down the hallway without glancing up. Lukas' low voice mumbled something, but he ground it out and entered his bedroom, shutting the door loudly behind him. He kicked off his boots with a sudden and pointless irritation and then stripped down and put on pajama bottoms and t-shirt.

The front door opened, and he sighed quietly, glad that they finally took the hint that he didn't want to talk to them. Then he climbed into his bed, subconsciously sliding over to one side as he had for quite a few nights, and stared at the wall. He didn't close his eyes, as it would only reinforce his hearing, and he didn't want to hear what was going on. It didn't matter anymore.

There was relative silence for a moment, and then he heard the front door shut and lock. After that, a pair of feet he already knew to be Ludwig's came quietly down the hall. They paused outside his door as if debating, but then the door opened. In a strange way, Berwald found himself relieved that Ludwig had come to him.

"Ber?" Ludwig's accent wasn't as thick now, after hearing the Scandinavians talk for what must have been at least an hour.

He didn't know what to say, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

The German shut the door and approached the bed, climbing on, and then crawling over to him on his knees.

"I talked to Lukas, just a second ago, when the others were gone." he said and swallowed. "He told me about Tino,"

Berwald didn't speak or move; it was all he could do to hold himself together.

"I'm so sorry," his voice fell to a whisper. "I didn't know,"

"It's not yer fault," he muttered, and even in those few words, it was easy to hear that his voice was broken.

Ludwig's soft, warm hand touched his arm, and then he gasped. "You're freezing,"

In a single motion, Ludwig had covered them both with blankets and was wrapping himself around him, pressing his chest to his back and conveying his heat to him. It was a simple but caring act, and it made Berwald want to cry even more than before.

Slowly, he reached around and clasped Ludwig's arm as it rested around him. It was a stupid gesture, but, it was all he could think to do. The German curled up behind him sighed softly at the touch, and nuzzled him with his nose. He let out a heavy breath, feeling himself sink deeper into the bed.

"Hey, Ber?" Ludwig asked timidly after a minute.

"Mm?"

"Do…do I have to leave now?"

Berwald rolled over and faced him. "Huh?"

"Well, with the others, I mean, I just," he looked down, stuttering.

Watching that strong man stutter and fumble was utterly adorable, and so Berwald decided to forget everything else for a bit, and wrapped his arms around Ludwig and pulled him to his chest.

"Ya don't have to go. Ever." he said into his nearly combed hair.

Ludwig sighed in relief and hugged him back, pressing his face into his nightshirt. "Thank you, Berwald."

He grunted and then shyly pressed his lips to his head. He liked the way he could feel Ludwig's cheeks get hot. Still, he felt the smaller man snuggle adorably against his chest, although he would have denied he did such a thing, and after only a few more moments, despite everything, he was able to fall asleep.

Maybe it was pure luck that he had been out cutting wood that day.

* * *

The next day Lukas called early in the morning. Ludwig had still been in bed. He apologized for the day before and Berwald simply grunted. It was strange, but somehow it felt as if the pain was taken farther away from him now. He couldn't really explain it, but it just wasn't as close anymore. Lukas said that he and Mathias, and another he didn't name, would still be staying at the safe house rather than down in the village he lived next to. He said he knew that Ludwig wasn't leaving, but apparently there was still reason to be wary. He encouraged him to remain inside, as he always did.

Berwald sighed when they got off the phone.

"Morning," Ludwig appeared in the kitchen with a sleepy yawn and a stretch.

Berwald grunted and tried to loosen his shoulders and the grip on his coffee, unaware that he had become so tense.

As he was staring down at his pale knuckles, trying to remember how to go about getting them to let go of the handle, he felt a sudden brush of warmth against his cheek, and then realized that Ludwig had given him a kiss. A good morning kiss. His hand fell limply on the table with a soft thump.

The German appeared not to notice his surprise and got his own coffee, then he sat down next to him, scooted closer, and touched his hand.

"How are you feeling?" he asked looking into his eyes with genuine concern.

He was still rather stunned from the kiss, and so he just blinked stupidly, but then his brain caught up and he sat forward a bit, clearing his throat. "Better,"

Ludwig squeezed his hand but didn't say anything else as they drank their coffees in silence.

Being quiet with Ludwig was nice, but a different kind of nice from when he had been quiet with Tino. He forced himself not to wince. With Tino, he could still feel tension, but it was as if they had simply gotten used to it. Now, there was no tension. He felt strangely at ease, and whenever he looked at Ludwig, he looked as relaxed as if he had been in his own home. Still, he felt something on his mind, and after a bit, decided they should just talk about it.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Ludwig's head jerked up, his eyebrows raised like he hadn't heard him, but then they lowered to an understanding, if not sympathetic expression.

"Don't say that. It all, is understandable," he told him, if not with a bit of hesitation.

Berwald sighed and looked towards the window that he had pushed the curtains away from.

"Hey," his hand was suddenly against his cheek, turning his face back.

Berwald was tempted to close his eyes and just melt away into the touch, but he allowed his eyes to be directed back to Ludwig.

"Don't be sorry, for anything," he told him, and then leaned forward and kissed his cheek again before kissing his forehead and then his lips softly.

That sweet German was going to be the death of him, and not in the way he would have expected from a German.


	12. Chapter 12

Alright, three things:

1.) Sorry this took so long to update, but the next few chapters should be coming pretty quick.

2.) This part is from Berwald's perspective again, sorry if that's confusing.

3.) There is an implied sexy time scene! If you don't want to read implied sex, just skip this chapter, the story will still make sense.

* * *

That night, he decided the best thing for them to do was to drink.

He hadn't honestly intended for either of them to drink the way they did, but, they had both had had quite a week. Or, month. Maybe even longer.

Before he knew it, the bottle of vodka he had grabbed was dangerously low. His head spun when he tried to remember how long it had taken them to drink so much or how full it had been to begin with. They both sat on the couch; half facing each other, half facing the fire, their faces painted red from the intense warmth.

He had taken another precarious drink, and was passing it to Ludwig when their fingers brushed. It was a simple touch, but Berwald felt his skin tingling even when he put his hand back in his lap. Did he know that he did that to him?

Ludwig finished off the bottle, swallowed dryly, and then stared at the empty container and looked so surprised that Berwald laughed. His body shook with the force of his amusement, and after a minute he fell back against the couch and took a deep breath. It was good to be drunk, even if everything was fuzzy along the lines, even with his glasses. When he got drunk alone he felt lonely though, and if he drank with the others Mathias was always too loud and annoying, and he could never understand what Lukas said, for which he'd get swatted at when he didn't respond. Tino-he didn't even wince as he thought of him-couldn't hold his liquor at all. He would be passed out face down on the couch after the first hour. No fun in that, now that he thought about it.

He looked up in time to watch Ludwig set the bottle awkwardly on the floor, where the promptly fell over, and then he tilted into the couch with his shoulder, laughing a little. The bright laughter sounded nice and his body trembled gently, causing his hair to fall over his eyes. He sighed and then looked up at Berwald through his hair, still smiling. Berwald thought he was going to have a heart attack just then.

That image, which he saw with perfect clarity even through his drunken haze, was worthy of the paintings and poems.

His smile, while normally perfectly symmetrical, curved crookedly over his upper teeth, each of them gleaming white. It accented his cheeks, which were lightly brushed with a soft, rosy pink that made his heart stutter. His straight nose was contrasted by his sharp jaw in a way that made it impossible for his eyes not to follow, and god, the way he was looking at him with those piercing, pale blue eyes which were glazed over and glistening with the utmost contentment, but still shining through the strands of hair that had fallen free…Berwald was surprised he hadn't passed out from forgetting to breathe.

Ludwig's cheeks grew redder, as did his ears a bit, and tilted his head away. Berwald then noticed how intensely he was staring and realized he had made him blush. It was almost too endearing to withstand.

"If you keep looking at me like that," Ludwig warned, his head still down but his eyes flicking back up, shining from the shadows cast by the fire. "I'm going to have to come over there,"

It was Berwald's turn to feel like hiding in the couch, aware of how fast his cheeks grew hot. However, he had no intention of looking away, so after a moment of Ludwig trying to find some semblance of balance, the blond German moved away from the couch. He pushed himself forward and began to crawl towards him. Berwald didn't dare breathe. The happy, careless smile that had graced Ludwig's face before was gone, torn to shreds by a look that he could only describe as predatory.

As his hands touched his knees, all of the muscles in his body jerked and tensed as if they had been electrocuted. Ludwig didn't seem to notice, or care, and continued moved forward until his hands moved up to the top of the back of the couch and the armrest, effectively pinning Berwald in the corner beneath him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ludwig lowered himself until his lips were placed next to his ear.

He muttered something in German that Berwald couldn't understand, but his voice rumbled in an unbearably deep manner, like thunder, and that, along with the way he grazed his sensitive ear with his bottom lip nearly made him tackle him on to the floor. Somehow though, he restrained himself, but couldn't stop his hands from snapping up and grabbing onto that taunt body above him. Ludwig smirked, fucking _smirked_, before roughly pressing their lips together. The kiss was nothing less than passionate. Their teeth and tongues scraped and smeared, their breathing coming faster and harder until Ludwig pulled back suddenly. Berwald almost bit him to keep him from parting.

"I think it's time we went to bed," he murmured before obscenely licking his lips.

"Bed," Berwald repeated dazedly, swallowing as he stared at his moist mouth.

"Mhmm," the German nodded, letting their chests touch before pulling back completely and swinging his legs off the couch.

He helped pull Berwald up, and they leaned on each other a little, half for balance, half because they just couldn't let go. They stumbled around the couch, away from the warm light of the fire, and then down the hallway towards the bedroom. The room was dark and maybe cold, but Berwald wouldn't have noticed even if the roof had been missing. Still, somehow he managed to shut the door behind them, deciding the rest was in fate's hands.

* * *

An undeterminable amount of time later, Ludwig let out a soft, content sigh and Berwald snuggled a bit closer to his back as they lied beneath the blankets.

"Ber?"

"Ya?"

"…I love you,"

The words made his heart and throat constrict with emotion, but he swallowed after a second and kissed the back of his head.

"Love ya, too."

"And," he said, rolling just a bit to look over his shoulder at him. "You better not forget this in the morning,"

Berwald chuckled quietly and kissed his shoulder near the base of his neck fondly as he looked at him. "I won't."

"Good, or else I'll have to remind you." the German laughed after winking at him sexily, a final hint of the lingering drunkenness, and then he rolled over and let out a deep, tired breath.

Berwald pulled them slightly closer so their bodies touched all the way to their legs, unable to remember a time that he had ever felt so content. As his heart slowed fully, and the warmness on his skin changed from the burning heat of exertion to a simple, even warmth that kept him hyper-sensitive to touch. He slowly began to run the tips of his fingers up and down Ludwig's arm once he freed his hand, occasionally smiling when he felt his skin ripple at his caress. He traced the chiseled muscles lazily for a while before he scooted even closer and put his nose in his soft, well-groomed hair. He smelled so intensely like him that Berwald had to force himself not to fall asleep like that.

As he pulled back a tiny bit, he realized that he recognized the tightness that had been growing in his chest. He knew it was love. Berwald could be sure because now that he was lying with him, their warm bodies pressed together beneath the blanket, he felt content. He knew he was in the right place. Before, even when he was relaxed, he felt himself wanting to move. Wanting to shift and adjust discretely, all in order to get closer to Ludwig. Because this was what he wanted, with every fiber of his being. And now that he had it, his only regret was that he wasn't more awake to enjoy it.

He wished he could better see Ludwig's calm expression and his beautiful, smooth skin, which was probably still slightly flushed. He wanted to see the exact way his eyebrows could be so light in color, but be so sharp and defining. More than that though, he wanted to simply study the way he breathed. With so much of their bodies pressed against each other, he was able to feel each breath he took, how long he held it, and how it was let out without a hitch of any kind, but he wanted more. He wanted to witness every breath he took, to count the heartbeats between, and to watch his nose move ever so slightly when he drew a sudden, deeper breath. He was sure he would find a pattern to it if he watched long enough; that was simply the type of man Ludwig was.

Every eleventh breath, maybe?

With a deep sigh of his own, he felt sleep beginning to seize him, and slowly he let himself sink into it. However, sleep took him slowly in a push-pull fashion, like waves, and as he faded away from the waking world, he continued to count his lover's breaths even as absent thoughts continued to flow through his mind.

…Nine, ten, _ele-ven_, twelve…

To hell with everything else, he thought to himself. He had Ludwig.

However, he mused just before he slipped away, if this was now an option, he might never chop firewood again.


	13. Chapter 13

He awoke when he heard the front door slam open. His eyes opened when he heard the _bedroom_ door slam open.

"Hey! Wake u—whoa!" Mathias' tall figure exploded into the room, only to fall back out into the hallway as if he had been punched. "What the hell!?"

Ludwig heard Berwald startle awake, and then heard him struggle to grab his glasses and put them all. He, on the other hand, opted to stretch first, and then to roll over lazily to place a good morning kiss on Berwald's surprised face. The look on the Swede's face changed momentarily to a tender look, but then he realized that Mathias was still staring at them and it changed to a dark expression of anger and annoyance quickly.

"Out!" he shouted, pulling the covers up in an adorable attempt to cover Ludwig's upper body.

"I'm blind!" Mathias cried, covering his eyes with his good arm and stumbling away down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

"I swear, I'm going to _kill him_," he growled.

Ludwig laughed a little and gently kissed his warm cheek. "After breakfast."

The Swede held still for a moment, but then gave in to his cuddling and hugged him before returning the morning kiss.

"What do you mean 'what do I mean?' I mean, they're naked!" Mathias hollered from down the hallway which was eventually followed by a noise Ludwig realized to be stifled Norwegian laughter.

Berwald cursed in Swedish, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Well, they would have found out eventually," Ludwig murmured, amused.

"Need to change the locks." he grumbled.

Lighter footsteps padded down the hallway towards them, and Berwald immediately pulled Ludwig against him again, almost defensively. It was very endearing, but still mostly amusing.

"Ber," Lukas didn't avert his eyes and folded his arms instead. "Get dressed. We need your help,"

Berwald entire body tensed. "Lukas…"

"It's not like that. We just need help with a job that Mat and Tino fucked up. It's not critical, but, it's pretty serious." he explained and then those strangely dull eyes seeming to almost flicker, as if caught in candlelight.

There was a heavy breath that brushed over his neck as he sighed, and then Berwald grunted affirmatively. Then, he simply began to get up, making sure not to pull the covers off of Ludwig, but not taking anything with him.

So, he wasn't embarrassed of nakedness, he just didn't want anyone to see _him_? Ludwig almost laughed out loud.

"Nice ass," Lukas suddenly muttered, just low enough for them to hear.

For a second, he thought he was talking to Berwald, but then realized that as he had rolled, he had pushed some of the covers away, exposing himself from his lower back downward. Berwald glared hard and Lukas winked without smiling before swinging the door shut.

"We're going to make breakfast." he called as he left.

"Rat poison's under the sink." Berwald informed him.

Ludwig chuckled and stretched before sighing and getting up. Slowly, his brain began to kick back in to gear, and he followed Berwald to the bathroom.

"What do they want?" he asked after a moment, trying not to be distracted as Berwald turned on the shower and turned around.

He grumbled unintelligibly in Swedish for a moment, and Ludwig only was able to pick up a few curses. "We'll find out,"

There was a minute of silence, but then Berwald took his hand and pull him into the shower.

He allowed himself to be led in and was then placed under the hot water. He closed his eyes willingly, tilting his head back a little and feeling the comforting warmth pour down his sore body. Berwald let out a grunt and then he felt a soft kiss placed on his neck. He smiled, rubbing the water off his face before opening his eyes.

They stood staring at each other for a minute, small endearing smiles touching their lips, and then Berwald cleared his throat and shifted a little on his feet, but it took a minute before he actually spoke.

"Was last night, okay?" Berwald finally asked.

Ludwig nodded when he looked at him. "Yeah, Ber. Are you okay with it?"

He touched his face; he looked so different without his glasses. "If ya are,"

"I am," he smiled at him, and then they kissed softly.

Honestly, he really was. Although he wasn't certain it would have happened if they both hadn't been drunk, he didn't regret it. Also, he wasn't surprised by it.

Growing up, he had never been very good with women, or girls, or females of any kind really. Gilbert had taken him out a few times in an attempt to meet girls for him to date, but he only had ever gotten one girl's telephone number, and it turned out that in the time it had taken Ludwig to get up the nerve to call, she had come to have a boyfriend. Gilbert laughed until he cried, and Ludwig never went out with him for the sake of meeting girls again.

Once he was in the army, though, he felt a bit out of place being unable to talk about girls. It seemed almost everyone had 'a girl back home', and in something of a panic, Ludwig found himself writing letters to this girl, though he never mailed them. He just did it to feel normal, since it seemed like everyone else did, and no one seemed to have any kind of attraction to those present around them. Ludwig was aware that homosexuality was a bit more than frowned upon in German society, but after years of futility trying to ignore the fact that his brother's friends had very, nicely shaped figures, he opted to quietly accept it.

Not that he would have ever told anyone back home, but being with Berwald here in Sweden felt like being in another world entirely; Berwald didn't even seem surprised about their relationship (or where it had gone). He actually only seemed concerned about if Ludwig was comfortable with it, and had offered to sleep on the couch again last night, worried that he might have needed space. He didn't need space at all; he needed Berwald as close to him as he could possibly be.

Still, it was a little embarrassing that the only other people that Berwald had over already knew about, their level of intimacy, but he was determined to follow the Swede's example and act as though it were any normal relationship. After all, if he alright with these things, and so was Berwald, then as far as he could figure, that was all that was needed to form a relationship. And he was alright with that.

There was a distant sound of some commotion in the kitchen and Berwald hid his face next to his neck and shoulder.

Ludwig chuckled and whispered in exaggerated secrecy. "How long do you think we'd have to wait for them to leave?"

Berwald laughed a little, but then it was followed by a stretch of honestly thoughtful silence, and Ludwig began to wonder if he should monitor the way he joked with Berwald.


	14. Chapter 14

"It doesn't matter!" Mathias was shouting into the phone.

Lukas rolled his eyes as he finished making breakfast, and then wiped off his hands, calling for Tino to finish setting it out, and walked across the kitchen, taking the phone from the tall Dane and shooing him away.

"_—__Besides, before I left you said—_"

"Emil, it's me." Lukas sighed as behind him Mathias went and sat next to Tino to eat.

"_Oh. Halló Lukas._" he said, his voice returning to its normal, singular tone.

"I know we told you we wouldn't call, and we haven't talked to Ber yet, but, I wanted to let you know before." Lukas told him.

The Icelander sighed thickly, but he could almost see him nod. "_Alright, alright. Fine. I'll wait for you to call._"

"Thanks, Emil."

There was an unintelligible grumble and then the line went dead. Lukas set the phone down and turned around to make a face at Mathias for getting their only contact outside of Sweden all riled up, but there was a short knock at the door, and they both froze.

The Dane and the Fin beside him looked to the door with wide eyes, and then Lukas took a deep breath in through his nose. He walked towards the door, praying or maybe cursing. Just not here. Not at Berwald's house.

Through the small window to the side of the door, he spotted a flash of impossibly white hair, and after a moment of willing himself up and preparing for the worst, he unlocked the door and opened it.

Lukas almost couldn't believe what he saw.

Another goddamned German soldier stood in front of him. Mathias and Tino were at his back almost instantly.

"Can…" Lukas' voice cracked and died, so he cleared his throat and started again. "Can I help you?"

The uniform in itself was always startling, but he himself was utterly stunning. He had white hair and skin, and red eyes. Lukas had heard of albinos, but this looked like a snow demon from ancient tales.

"I'm here for Ludwig Beilschmidt." he said in Swedish, speaking formally but then he crossed his arms at their all-too-obvious alarm. "The German Army doesn't know he's here. I'm his brother."

They all just stared in disbelief as Lukas tried to get his mind to work properly, only to have his thought processes ruined by fear, and by the German's red eyes flicking to each of them sharply. Thankfully, Lukas heard heavy steps down the hallway, and everyone turned to see Berwald's towering figure step into sight, Ludwig in tow. They both stopped immediately when they spotted the albino in the door. Silence descended upon them heavily until the German beside Berwald began to walk forward, still gimping slightly from the gunshot wound.

"Gilbert?" he choked out as Lukas and the others at the door began to step aside.

The albino who claimed to be his brother stepped boldly over the threshold and walked until they were both standing only a few inches apart. Not known what else to do, Lukas shut the door. When he looked up, the two Germans were still simply staring at each other, and Berwald looked pale. When the Swede looked at him, he was only able to shrug helplessly.

"How did you-?" Ludwig asked in disbelief.

"You're my brother, Lud. I always know where you are." he said in coarse German, and laughed in a strange, almost dark manner. "You look like shit, though. What did those Scandinavians do to you?"

He looked down at his leg, and then the floor. "A shot in the dark, more or less,"

"But it's not worse than what your battalion did, though, is it?" Gilbert, his arms still folded.

The blond looked up quickly. "You…you know?"

He shrugged a little, forsaking his formal posture to shift his weight to his left foot. "They called me the day they realized you were gone."

Ludwig glared at something unseen, but then his eyes widened and he looked back at the albino. "Brother, you're not…you have permission to be here, don't you?"

"More or less," he laughed again, echoing his words. "But there was no way I wasn't going to come make sure my little brother was safe,"

Ludwig looked annoyed, but then looked over his shoulder at Berwald, whose face was unreadable. "I'm safe, Brother."

"Mhmm." he didn't seem convinced and then those blood red eyes were suddenly on Lukas. "That's not what I've gathered."

Lukas' heart might have stopped before it began beating loudly enough for him to wonder if the others could hear it.

"A little bird tells me, there's been some trouble stirring," Gilbert began walking towards Lukas before Mathias strongly put his foot forward, bringing himself slightly between them.

He would never admit how many times the Dane had actually protected him, but it was times like this that he was thankful for his protective, if not reckless, nature.

Ludwig looked at Mathias and Lukas before looking back to Berwald; he didn't understand. Berwald slowly walked forward into the room, stopping just behind Ludwig's left shoulder and muttered something. Ludwig's eyes widened with rather obvious fear, and he looked back at his brother.

"What do you know?" he demanded.

Everyone was waiting to hear the German speak, and he knew it. He seemed to enjoy it even, and a small smirk played freely around his lips.

"You're not as discreet as you believe," he said in a low tone as his eyes locked with Mathias, and then faced Ludwig again. "These fine gentlemen have illegal dealings with those loyal to the Allies. Weapon suppliers for anti-German forces."

Lukas folded his arms, not wanting him to continue. Not wanting him to reveal what they had done.

"After that last little show they put on, I'm surprised their own country hasn't gunned 'em down for shame." Gilbert snarled and his lips curled over his lips in a way that Lukas could only describe as wolfish.

Tino's head dipped like scolded pup and Mathias boldly folded his arms, although the hesitation in his eyes was obvious. Lukas tried to hold his own, but his shoulders felt heavier when Berwald's eyes widened and fell on him. Berwald trusted him to lead Mathias and Tino in whatever they did. Although the Dane had declared himself the leader after Berwald left, Lukas watched over the operation that he led. He made sure they were covered, set up, and would be clean afterwards. Hell, he'd even been the one to carry the dynamite anytime it had been necessary. But he had fucked up this time. He hadn't prepared enough before they acted.

"The point is," Gilbert continued, his eyes sweeping the room again before returning to his brother. "We need to get you out of here. All of you."

No one moved.

He looked annoyed.

Ludwig looked at him looking annoyed, and then turned to Berwald.

"Do…do we really have to go?" his voice was soft but firm.

The tall Swede looked up at Lukas. His heart wrenched a little. He would do whatever Lukas said was right. And he would do it all the way. He had never asked for so much faith from anyone.

With a bitter sigh he nodded once.

Berwald nodded back. "Did ya call Ice?"

"Ice?" Gilbert sneered.

"Emil said he would wait for our call." Lukas said, pointedly ignoring Gilbert.

He nodded. "Get him on the phone."

Lukas moved around the Germans in the center of the room as calmly as he could, getting to the phone that was mostly in the kitchen. He dialed the memorized number and it rang twice before the phone was snatched and the Icelander's presence was in the room once again.

"_Fuck, Lukas. All of you, then?_" he demanded before he could say anything.

The Norwegian looked up to Berwald, seeing him and Mathias exchanging a hard look while Tino cringed a bit.

"Is the albino coming?" Lukas asked, trying to sound indifferent to the man in uniform.

"_Albino? What the fuck?_"

"Wish I could," he laughed again. "But, you know, there's a war that's missin' me."

The Scandinavians squirmed and he seemed to appreciate it.

"Forget it." Lukas said at last into the mouth of the phone. "There's going to be five of us."

"_Five?_" he asked.

"I'll explain later." Lukas mumbled. "Can you get things set?"

"_You know I can. Be out of town by tomorrow._" he ordered bossily which made Lukas roll his eyes almost without noticing.

"_And Lukas?_" Emil's voice was oddly soft suddenly.

He paused before setting the phone down. "Yeah?"

"_…__Be careful._"

The line severed loudly and he smiled a bit as he hung it up.

As he looked up, however, there was a sick tension that had settled over the room. They needed a plan, but it felt as if it depended entirely on Gilbert. He obviously didn't want his brother hurt, so they didn't have a strong reason to suspect he would turn them in to the German authority, but they had no reason to trust him. He was the _enemy_.

Luckily, he didn't keep them in suspense long.

"If you give me a map, I'll show you where you should go." he said, a hand on his hip.

Berwald grunted before cautiously stepping away and heading down the hall. Berwald's house was safe, but safe as in defensible. He had enough weapons to arm the town below to the teeth. He also had all kinds of tools and things that would have been enough evidence to convict him of illegal arms dealing ten-fold. That's why Lukas was always so afraid when things led to Berwald's house. Everyone else felt safe, and it was almost hard not to, but Lukas _knew_ what could happen.

He did had a map, however, which he brought to the kitchen and set on the table.

The two Germans walked over with Mathias and Tino behind them and everyone bent over the table. Lukas felt a familiar feeling in his stomach that he imagined was a cold stone sinking. It was the feeling before something big happened.

Damnit all.


	15. Chapter 15

He watched Ludwig hug his brother before his red eyes flicked up to him. They didn't linger, however, and then he turned sharply and walked out the door without saying anything more. He seemed to leave with the same intensity that he had arrived with, and the room suddenly felt as though it had lost several people instead of just one.

"Well, shit." Mathias summed up for everyone.

Berwald rubbed his face. "Need to pack,"

"Emil said we didn't have to—" Tino began but when he looked at him, he silenced.

"We should get started as soon as we can," Mathias supported him.

Lukas still stood in the entrance to the kitchen, his arms folded loosely across his lower chest. He didn't speak, so it was safe to assume he agreed. Ludwig's out-of-place expression of being lost was beginning to fade, and he nodded determinedly to Berwald when he looked at him. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped his chest. He didn't like change, and he had lived in his home for a long time.

"We'll go back and pack up, then." Mathias spoke again, looking slightly smaller.

Situations like this brought out strange things in people.

Berwald nodded while Lukas moved to the door. He looked shameful. He knew he blamed himself, even though he also knew that Lukas always did his best when preparing any dealings or meetings. That's why it was his job, after all. But, he supposed that's what they got for playing with fire. They all knew the risks, though.

"Be careful," he called to them as they filed out the door.

Lukas met his eyes, but looked away while he nodded and Mathias just sort of shrugged in acknowledgement, but then Tino met his eyes full on. He trembled a bit, but then offered a timid smile. It hurt to look at, but he nodded at him. Then, Ludwig shifted next to him, and must have sent a rather intense stare, because Tino's eyes moved to him, and he squeaked before quickly following after the others out the door.

He looked down at Ludwig, but he was already on his way to shut the door. When he turned and looked at him, he only shrugged a little, and then Berwald rubbed his face again.

"Should we begin packing?" Ludwig asked.

He shook his head and went into the kitchen. "Breakfast first."

Breakfast was quite, but his thoughts were loud enough to drown out anything they would have said to each other anyway. He had tried to get out of this, but even back then, he knew he would never really get away. He had always known, he had just allowed himself to hope.

Shaking those thoughts off, he ran through several lists of what needed to be packed and prepared. It would be a lot since there was always a chance of never coming back. He just really liked this house. Either way, he figured that he could have them packed and ready to go by noon, and the house set to be left before nightfall. They would move in the dark to Gothenburg, and by the time the sun rose, they could get to the boat. From there, they would go to fucking Iceland. Again. He hated Iceland.

They cleaned up from breakfast and then Berwald led the way down the hall. As they passed the bedroom he saw that the blankets on the bed were still in a jumbled mess, and blushed. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of blood rushing passed his ears while he felt a strange mix of extreme happiness and excitement flood his stomach, but then he took a deep breath to calm himself and cleared his throat. That did lead him on to realize that it would probably be a while before he would be able to touch Ludwig again the way he had the night before. And in the shower.

He cursed under his breath and Ludwig looked up at him immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

They reached the end of the hall and he opened the door before he spoke, thinking it out first. Or trying to.

"Won't be able to touch much," he grumbled, still blushing as he went and opened the curtains to let more light into the unused room.

He looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes opened in understanding before he began trying to hide a look of disappointment.

"We'll find time," he said, sounding surprisingly determined.

Berwald felt himself wanting to smile, but he blushed harder instead, so he coughed into his hand and looked away. "Should start packin',"

He could feel Ludwig smiling at him as he turned away, and then tried to take deep breaths until the blush faded. He felt strangely light. Maybe there was too much blood in his brain. Or not enough. Either way.

Shaking his head a bit to ground himself, he looked around the simple room before going to work gathering all of the items he had hidden there. Admittedly, they were mostly weapons, and there was a lot. Even by his standards. He watched Ludwig's eyes get wider and wider until he was just sitting in shock as Berwald pulled guns from under the floorboards, within the walls, the closets, and even from the ceiling above them. His favorite was his Karabiner 98k. Ironically enough, it was German made. The bolt-action rifle that had been obtained after one of his first mission with Lukas and Mathias.

Since then, he had taken the utmost care of it, and cleaned it more often than any of the others. If he could, he would die with that gun. It was one of the few he actually considered to be his. The rest were simply obtained to be sold and traded. That was what they did; he only kept this particular stock as a sort of backup in case they ever needed more. Mathias and Lukas kept their stock at their house, as Berwald had helped build places for them to be stored.

Aside from the Karabiner, he also had a Lahti L-35, which was a small, semi-automatic pistol of Finish make. He might die with his rifle in his arms, but this gun was glued to his hip whenever he went out. Mathias had laughed the first time he saw him clasping the small gun in his large hand, but when he had shattered his target from a distance far enough to have been a hard shot for a rifle, he stopped laughing. He liked that pistol.

Then, he found the German Luger P08 he had taken from Ludwig when he had first found him.

"Suppose yer gonna want this back," he said softly as he turned, offering his pistol back.

He grasped the gun tightly. "I…I thought I had lost it when I jumped off the train,"

Berwald grunted, but couldn't bring himself to say anything, still able to clearly see him lying in the snow, bleeding.

"Thank you." he muttered quietly before he suddenly leaned over and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

He must have looked as surprised as he felt because Ludwig laughed when he looked at him, and gave him a second kiss on his other cheek. Berwald finally returned the cheek kiss, and then blushed and mumbled at Ludwig's smug look. Then, he realized that if he got everything packed and set before Lukas, Mathias, and Tino did, he and Ludwig would have time to just be together before they had to go. He didn't explain why he was suddenly moving twice as fast, and left Ludwig looking confused.

Packing up the guns first, he separated them into what was to be sold and what was to be kept. Most of them were going, but a few were to be kept. For safety. Next, he dealt with the other weapons, such as the knives, the two machetes he had, and the three hatchets. He figured to sell these, too. Then he left the room and gathered up all the tools he had that were mostly spread around the house from Mathias and Lukas borrowing them and not putting them back where they belonged. He had things ranging from lock-picks to code keys to equipment used for making grenades and sticks of dynamite. All of that was probably coming along. It was illegal to have most of it, but, he figured they were illegal just being themselves at this point.

After that came the less interesting items. He packed his clothes, a sewing kit so he could hem them for Ludwig if he needed to, a few blankets, soap, toothbrushes, and towels. He always remembered towels. He also packed a few things of canned food, just in case. Lastly, he took a small, locked box. Only Lukas knew what was inside, and he didn't like to talk about it nor open it, but, it was important to him. He hid it between the folds of one of the blankets.

When he had finished, he checked the time and grunted. He still had more to do, but, it was getting done fast. He then began to do things for his small house such as seal up the fireplace and block the windows. There was no telling how long they would be away; it could be a few months or years. He just hoped he would have something to come back to. Building this place had been hard, even with Lukas' help. As he worked, Ludwig tried to help as much as he could, but Berwald just wanted him to rest. Traveling was always harder on injured people and he wanted him prepared in case anything went wrong.

After he had finally finished, he began systematically locking all of the doors until everything was ready, and the cold house began to feel abandoned already. Now, his heart felt heavy. He sat on the couch with Ludwig, but they didn't speak or touch. Instead, he sat forward and set his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands out in front of him and stared at them hard.

They waited like that for a bit before Ludwig broke the silence.

"Ber?"

"Hm?" he asked, without looking away, still wrestling with the feeling of change that was devouring his sense of comfort.

Ludwig made a few noises like he was trying to speak, but just as Berwald went to look at him, he felt warm lips press a kiss to his temple.

"I love you."

He sat back at that, turning and putting his hand on the side of Ludwig's face as they held eye-contact.

"Love ya too," he muttered. "Always."

Ludwig reached up and put his hand on the back of his neck, pulling them closer and bowing his head slightly so their foreheads were pressed together. He closed his eyes and they stayed like that for a while, just breathing and feeling each other's presence. Their other hands that were resting on the couch slowly found their way to each other and they laced fingers gently. He considered it a perfect moment.

Slowly, the desire to touch and kiss Ludwig's beautiful body and lips returned to him, and he began to pull away. The fingers around the back of his neck began to loosen, but instead of pulling away fully he leaned back only a little and then tilted the German's chin up by cupping his thumb under his sharp jaw. Then, he kissed him.

The kiss was soft, and even when it deepened it remained an utterly tender touch. His lips were elegant and statuesque, fitting to his in a way that made him feel completely humbled by their perfection. Perhaps everything about Ludwig wasn't perfect, but because of the love that was swelling in his chest, everything about the German was perfect to him.

They didn't part, not even to move closer. Berwald simply wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him so their legs touched and their chests brushed together. Still, the kiss didn't become heated, it simply remained warm. That didn't make it any less, though. Slowly, their hands parted, but it was only to wind around the other's body. They held each other as though they could have stayed like that for the rest of time.

In all honesty, Berwald had trouble reminding himself why they couldn't.


	16. Chapter 16

Here's a new character perspective, yay! This one's from Denmark's POV, and it's a little experimental, so feel free to review.

* * *

Lukas stared out the window. Mathias stared at Lukas. Tino sat in the back seat and looked fearful for his life.

"You're not watching the road." Lukas said after a minuet, without looking at him.

Mathias glanced up, corrected the vehicle on the dark road, and went to turn back to look at Lukas again, but the Norwegian grabbed his face and held him straight.

"Eyes on the road." he said firmly.

"But my arm hurts," he whined almost automatically.

"That has nothing to do with your eyes." he said unwaveringly.

Mathias frowned and made a sad noise. He wanted to look at Lukas, and to talk to him, but he refused to allow either. He wanted to be able to talk to him about what was on his mind, about what was bothering him, but he knew Lukas wouldn't open up to him now. He wouldn't unless they were alone. The way Mathias figured it, however, they were pretty much alone with Tino in the car; he wouldn't talk for days if no one spoke to him first.

"Tell me a story." he demanded as soon as Lukas removed his hand.

The person in the passenger seat shifted, but was stubborn. "No."

"Pleeeease?" he begged.

"You sicken me." he told him, finally turning so he could meet those strangely purple eyes when the glanced over.

He laughed loudly, possibly startling Tino.

"We're almost to Ber's," Lukas added quietly.

So there was a possibility of getting a story out of him, just not if they had to stop in the middle? That's right; Lukas hated interruptions, especially when he was the one speaking. Mathias smiled to himself. He was determined to get a story.

Although he wouldn't have thought so when he met the dull-eyed blond, Lukas was a fantastic story teller. He only ever told stories from Old Norse lore, but they were always managed to fill Mathias with wonder, leaving him to stare hopefully up into the night sky or into old ponds. He was aware of how strongly Lukas felt about his heritage, and wondered if that was what led him to give such powerful performances. That's what his stories were: performances.

They arrived at the hill-top house in a matter of minutes, it seemed, and he honked before getting out of the car. Lukas and Tino followed behind him, and the door opened just before they reached it. Berwald nodded to them all, and the new German that stood beside him looked at them each in turn, and then they all fetched the bags they had piled in the living room without a word and began to load up the large car.

He still wasn't certain how he felt about having a German along for the ride, but if Lukas said he was staying, then he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to tell him to go. After all, they had each exchanged shots, which made them even by his reckoning. However, while he was busy thinking about their newest member, he realized that the keys had slipped from his possession.

"Hey!" he shouted at Berwald.

The tall, stoic Swede looked at him with the keys in his hand. "It's my car."

He frowned folding his arms childishly, but didn't argue this time. When he saw Lukas climbing into the passenger seat, however, he honestly became cross. That meant he would have to sit in the back. Sitting with Tino wouldn't be too bad, maybe a bit boring, but with the new German, he wasn't sure what to expect. They were also in the car before him.

Swearing thoroughly in Danish he threw the last bag into the trunk of the car and then got in. Tino had reclaimed his place next to the window behind the passenger's seat, and Ludwig had thus been place in the middle seat. He always liked the middle seat because he liked to see what was going on, and didn't like to be squished off to either side. He grumbled and began to get in, but then the German looked at him.

"Do you want to sit here?" he asked seriously.

He arched his eyebrow and began to nod. The German nodded back and, to his surprise, climbed out and let him sit in the middle. Then, he got back in and shut the door without another word. He now liked the German more than he liked Berwald. Lukas was rolling his eyes, though.

"Lukas said he'd tell us a story!" he blurted out as soon as the car began rolling in an attempt to avoid a somber parting scene.

The Norwegian tried to cast him an annoyed look, but Berwald turned his head and caught his attention instead.

"Really?" he asked.

Mathias hated the way Lukas would stop whatever he was doing when Berwald asked him something. He understood that they had been friends longer, but they hadn't been living together for over a year now.

"Tell the _Wulf_ story!" Tino suddenly hummed happily.

"_Beowulf?_" he corrected, still sounding a bit annoyed, but already regaining his seemingly mystical expression.

Mathias cheered his support, but Lukas didn't begin until Berwald grunted as well and he had made eye contact with the German.

The story was a familiar one; Lukas told it often, but it never lost its edge on Mathias. Even though he knew it by heart, he still held his breath when the hero came face-to-face with the monster Grendel, and shouted in victory when he defeated it. Lukas rolled his eyes at his enthusiasm, but he could see in his eyes that he was smiling. The story took most of the drive, and when it ended, when Beowulf slew the demon, and in doing so sacrificed his own life, even Tino cheered.

"That's an incredible story," Ludwig told Lukas after he had concluded.

The Norwegian smirked a little. "You should hear _Feer_ tell it,"

Ludwig looked confused, turning to Mathias when Lukas didn't say anything more. He was only able to shrug. Lukas often referenced things and people he didn't know, but even if he asked about it, he was never told anything more.

Tino suddenly yawned widely which made Mathias yawn, too. It was then passed to Ludwig, and all three of them blinked sleepily. He caught Berwald's eye through the rear-view mirror, but felt too tired to make a face at him or even grin. Instead he opted to sink down a bit in the seat, and tried to lean comfortably against the part supporting his back.

The small Fin tipped over after a few more miles, leaning against him innocently. He smiled a little and put his arm around his shoulders but didn't want to lean on him lest he squish him. Instead, he gathered himself up discretely, and leaned over on Ludwig, careful of his hurt arm.

The German looked startled, even with sleepy eyes, but when Mathias just continued to stare up at him from his place against his shoulder, he relaxed.

"Sorry I shot you," he mumbled after a moment, slowly beginning to lean against him in return.

"Yeah, me too." he nodded a little.

Tino squirmed a little next to him, and the rest grew rather fuzzy as he faded in and out of sleep and the scenery flew past the windows.

He remembered the car slowing as they presumably reached Gothenburg, then Berwald and Lukas both got out. He awoke again when they got back in, and Lukas angrily hissed that there was a change of plans. Mathias wanted to wake up and be involved, but he was very warm and comfortable between the two people sleeping on either side of him. Sleep dragged him down again a few minutes later without him being able to actually grasp what was happening, but there was some discussion about England. They were going to stop in England? Didn't he have a cousin in England?


	17. Chapter 17

Here's another short, new perspective piece, it's a little experimental too, but, it brings in a new character: Iceland!

* * *

Emil swore the whole way to England. It wasn't actually all that bad, but the food wasn't very good and it rained a lot. The thought made him scowl. Not to mention, they were bringing a fifth he hadn't counted on. A German, no less. Fuck.

Well, at least he'd get to see Lukas and Tino again. He missed them. Mathias pissed him off and Berwald scared him sometimes, but Tino was good for cooking and Lukas listened to him. So, that was something.

He braced himself at the stern of the small boat and glared against the waves, his jacket catching the cold wind a bit. There was nothing to do now but move carefully. He had always been set up as a contact for this kind of thing, but it was almost surreal having to actually go through with it. He quietly admitted to the sea that he was afraid. He wouldn't show it once they landed though.

Not to anyone.


	18. Chapter 18

Apparently Iceland was no longer their destination; Berwald sighed heavily.

They docked in Great Yarmouth, England. Emil had landed much farther north, but he had been a day ahead of them, and apparently already had a place set up for them. The hardest part would be finding it. They had to head east to Norwich, although Emil had warned them that they might move even farther north, just to be safe. Honestly, Berwald didn't care either way. He just wanted to get them there. He always felt that transporting so many weapons was like carrying a time bomb, and that if he held them for too long, everything would just blow up.

Incidentally, it did mean that while they were in England, there would be no more dealings. From then on, their goal was to lie low and not fuck things up. He considered keeping a tally of how many days it took until the British police arrived on their doorstep, though.

The streets wound around and around, but never seemed to lead in circles. Instead, it was like a nightmarish spiral, with every turn landing them onto a new street. The worst part of all was that Berwald wasn't even driving; they were in a taxi cab with a driver who had lived there his entire life, and he was still having a panic attack. In his defense, there were more buildings on the street they were currently on than there were in both the towns he had lived in combined. Ludwig's hand had suddenly, though discretely, moved on top of his, grasping it and rubbing his thumb over his palm. His shoulders dropped as he breathed out; he hadn't realized he had been tensing them so hard.

Without warning, the car slowed, and then stopped, seemingly in the middle of the small street. But still on the wrong side of the road. He just couldn't get used to that. They got out and gathered all of their things before looking up to see Emil leaning in the doorway of a tall but thin building, his arms folded. He was staring at Ludwig hard enough to bore holes in him, but when the German looked up, his eyes jumped to Mathias as if they'd been on him the whole time. Berwald might have smiled; he liked Emil, his short temper amused him.

Emil was the youngest of them all, and he hated it. He had been born and raised in Iceland, but had traveled the most out of them all. He wasn't much good for the kind of work they did, but he was good for times like this. Emil had contacts all over Europe and had even if he didn't seem to like Berwald very much, he went along with everything they asked. He was never happy about it, but he always helped them out whenever they called. He couldn't quite figure that one out. But as they unloaded the car and marched into the house, he settled on suspecting that it stemmed from Lukas and Emil's brotherly relationship.

The shorter Icelander also really liked Tino, but moved away from Berwald if he got too close. He hated Mathias, so he said, but when he saw that he was injured, the concern in his voice was obvious.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded after hugging Lukas and Tino.

"This bastard here shot me," he said, waving his good arm at Ludwig, but grinning like an idiot.

"After you shot me first," the German said in his defense as he gimped in behind him.

Emil stared at him, and then at his injured leg, and then turned to Lukas and muttered something close to his ear. He frowned in thought, nodding a few times, and then straightened up when Emil pulled back and hid behind his shoulder slightly.

"We're going in to town, we still have the rest of the paperwork to finish up on this place, and then we should be set." Lukas informed Berwald with a firm nod, as if in response to his own words.

Berwald blinked at him, but then gave his own nod after a few minutes. "We'll unpack,"

Lukas nodded and left with Emil, but as he walked by he brushed the outside of his hand against his, startling Berwald into standing still to watch them leave until the door shut.

What the hell was that?

Before he could honestly begin to think about it, there was a loud thump, and he turned to see Mathias lying sprawled out on the floor.

"Get yer ass up and help," he ordered irritably at the Dane.

"But I'm injured," he whined loudly.

He frowned for a minute, but then Tino timidly spoke up.

"It's alright, let him and Ludwig rest. We can unpack until Luke and Emil get back." he said in a soft, caring voice.

Berwald was stunned a second time. He knew of Tino's hatred for Germans, and he had absently figured that this meant he hated Ludwig, but, maybe he wasn't thinking of him as a German now that he wasn't in uniform.

He gave a grunt and a nod, and then Ludwig appeared, carrying in the last of the bags from the taxi cab. Berwald went to go take the bags from him so he could rest, but Tino beat him to it, pulling them from his arms and shooing him to the couch that Mathias was slowly crawling towards. Ludwig looked just as surprised, but obeyed and went and sat, checking his leg before helping to drag Mathias up to sit beside him.

Cute.

He began unpacking quickly, eager to get as much of it done before evening as he could, which only left a few hours seeing as somehow it was already noon. Tino dragged the heavy bags over to him, and went to work without a word. Once when they were unpacking he looked up and met the Fin's eyes. He was startled, as always, but offered him a smile. It was strange, but it didn't make his heart flutter like it used to. He fought the desire to see if he could get a smile out of Ludwig instead.

Before long, the house was beginning to look like their own again, although he sighed still when he thought of his own home. When evening came and Lukas returned with a stack of paperwork and Emil in tow, they had finished unloading every bag except for everyone's personal packs, which they set in the front room so they could decide the sleeping arrangement later. Berwald took the paperwork from Lukas and then the Norwegian said that he would make dinner for them all, since Emil had gotten groceries earlier. He nodded and took the papers down the left hallway passed the closet to the small room they had designated as the office, and set them carefully on the floor until they had somewhere safer to keep them.

As he came back down the hall, he saw that Ludwig and Mathias had fallen asleep over on each other on the couch just as they had in the car, again reminding him of—

"Aw, they look like puppies!" Tino suddenly whispered beside him, clasping his hands together.

Finally, his heart missed a beat, but he wasn't looking at the short Fin, he was looking at his German. Maybe that was why he now seemed immune to Tino; he was being shielded by Ludwig. Trying to push these thoughts away, mostly because they were making him blush, he took his large blanket from his pack and spread it over them carefully. Although he didn't like to see that damned Dane leaning over on Ludwig's shoulder, he decided he could let them rest until dinner was ready. They did look like puppies, after all.

Emil suddenly appeared in the doorway behind them, and he was only sure it was him because of the angry way he cleared his throat in order not to walk up and startle the Fin. They both turned around and he fixed his eyes on Tino.

"Lukas said you and me are sharing a room, so, I'll show you which one you can put your stuff in," he said, perhaps trying to sound authoritative, but still looking rather shy.

Tino smiled with his eyes shut happily, and then fetched his bag and allowed the Icelander to lead the way up the stairs to the bedrooms. Berwald then fondly glanced once more at Ludwig before heading into the kitchen, which was on the right, passed the bathroom. Lukas was alternating between stirring something and talking to himself in a hushed voice, but stopped when Berwald entered the kitchen fully.

"Who ya talkin' to?" he asked in a quiet murmur as he walked up beside him.

Lukas regarded him with those dull eyes for a moment, but then they seemed to glint ever so slightly.

When Berwald had moved to his town and they had become friends, Lukas took him into the woods and told him a secret that he hadn't been able to tell anyone else. He saw things. Not in a psychotic sort of way, but rather, in a way that explained his mystical aura to Berwald. He saw ancient things. He said he had seen them in Norway his whole life, but even when he moved, he saw them in Sweden, too. When Berwald asked what he saw, he waited, but then told him that he was able to see mythical creatures of the old world. He saw fairies and trolls, and he could sometimes find trees that he was able to speak to. Once, he said, he even found a spirit that watched over a small pond.

After he had spent enough time in Sweden, these fairies apparently began to follow him around, and so even when he appeared to be alone, he was often talking with someone. Berwald had thought for a long time that he might have actually been crazy, but once, when he had been passing by, he had seen Lukas ask for something to hand him a book that was sitting on a table, and then, he saw the book levitate, and cross the room to his waiting hand, seemingly on its own. He had promised never to tell anyone of what Lukas could see, but from then on, he didn't believe he was crazy anymore. However, now that they were no longer in Sweden, he was wondering if Lukas was finally talking just to himself.

"Apparently," Lukas said, glancing around before looking back down at the stove. "England has its own fairies. They look different though."

Berwald couldn't help looking around the room, as if expecting to see something. He didn't.

"Oh." he muttered.

Lukas was silent for a moment before his eyes fixed randomly towards the upper cabinets, and then he looked down at him. "They like you."

He suddenly felt very self-conscious and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Here, taste this." Lukas ordered suddenly, able to also sense Berwald's feelings without him having to say anything.

He always liked that about Lukas. Stepping forward, he gingerly tasted whatever he was making from a flat, wooden spoon he was holding out for him. It was hot, but tasted good. He grunted in approval.

"It doesn't need more salt?" Lukas asked, eyeing the salt sitting on the counter very seriously.

Berwald almost laughed. "Enough salt."

"Never enough salt," Lukas winked at him with a straight face before turning back to the stove again.

Berwald looked around the room once more, hearing the sound of shuffling as Tino and Emil were apparently unpacking on the floor above them.

"Tino and Emil?" he asked after a moment.

Lukas nodded. "I figured since I'm used to Mat, and I…didn't think you'd want to leave Tino with a vulnerable German all night."

That second part was a lie. He was having trouble saying it. His shoulders fell a bit with guilt.

"Lukas," he muttered, walking a bit closer to his back.

He sighed bitterly. "It's hard, Ber. It was hard when Tino came, it's hard now. It's just how it is."

"No one's gonna replace ya," he told him honestly, and then cautiously put his arms around the smaller Norwegian. "Not to me,"

It took a minute, but eventually he left the spoon in the pot and turned around in his arms to hug him back. They both sighed; it had been a long time since they had embraced properly like this.

The truth was, Lukas had been his first love. They had been friends, but when his mother died and he came to live with him, it had blossomed into something more. For nearly a year and a half, they had something, something secret and special. When Lukas brought Mathias, though, everything changed. Berwald hadn't wanted it to, but Lukas did, so he let it. He was still fairly certain that Mathias was oblivious to their past relationship.

At first, Berwald had thought this change was because Lukas was instead falling for Mathias, but that didn't seem to be the case. He still wasn't sure why, but when Tino had come in and Berwald's heart turned him even further away from Lukas, he realized that it had hurt him. Lukas never admitted it, but they both knew it did. Berwald apologized, because when he told him that he would always be special to him, and that he would always have a love for him in a way, he meant it. He knew it wasn't enough for Lukas, but it was the truth.

Still, Lukas buried his face in his shoulder for a moment, breathing rather hard until he had apparently gathered himself up, and then they looked at each other, still wrapped up in each other's arms.

"I just hate to watch you hurt, Ber." he whispered after a minute.

He looked down; he didn't do it often, but, there was a lot of guilt in Lukas' words. "I know,"

They were silent until dinner was finished.

However, Berwald didn't even have to wake up Ludwig and Mathias when they were ready. The injured pair stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and Mathias' stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear. They both plopped down at the small table and then Lukas handed Berwald some plates and the instructions to set them out and then sit down. He did as he was told, but his gaze remained fixed on sleepy Ludwig. He yawned adorably before rubbing his face and stretching a little when Berwald sat next to him.

"I must have been more tired than I thought," he frowned, still looking like he was trying to shake off sleep.

Berwald had to fight the urge to kiss him. He wouldn't care if he made the Dane feel awkward, but he knew this was rough on Lukas. He would have to get used to it eventually, but, Berwald could give him time. He owed him that much.

Emil and Tino descended from the second staircase that led from the kitchen to the second floor, taking their seats as Lukas then walked over with the pot and began to serve them. Mathias drowsily chuckled at how motherly he was acting, and Lukas responded by threatening to pour the pot's steaming contents on his head. Berwald always liked Lukas' cooking, even if Tino and Mathias often told him it was bland, or too salty, and he thanked him in Norwegian when he served him.

For a brief second, he looked at him as if he was about to kiss his forehead like he used to. And then he did exactly that.

Ludwig and Mathias were immediately awake and Tino and Emil stared with wide eyes. He felt himself blink stupidly as Lukas then simply walked away and sat down to eat. He didn't avoid anyone's gaze; he was testing the way things were, and Berwald knew it. The only problem was, he didn't know what to do.

After a moment of silence, he was certain no one was going to speak. He hoped that Lukas wouldn't do it again; he didn't want tension in their small group, as things were going to be tense already. Yet, before the moment was allowed to end completely, Ludwig suddenly spoke.

"Don't do that."

He had never heard him use such an authoritative voice before, though it was still rather quiet, and he looked to him along with everyone else. He held only Lukas' eyes.

"Alright." he said after a long stretch of testing silence.

Ludwig appeared surprised at his complacency, and then it dropped and everyone began eating. Berwald wasn't sure how he felt about that, but decided he would wait and figure it out when he was alone. It was too hard to think that deeply around others.

"There's too much salt," Mathias complained daringly.

Lukas' dull eyes carried the essence of death as he glared at him. "I could water it down with your blood,"

Tino's loud, terrified laugh filled the room before he clamped his hand over his mouth. Emil might have giggled a little.

Mathias simply grinned widely at Lukas and ate another, decidedly larger spoonful.


	19. Chapter 19

Tino offered to clean up, and after Lukas decided to go unpack with Mathias, Emil went to help him. Berwald went to grab his pack and reappeared with both his and Ludwig's in hand. Ludwig accepted his bag and followed the tall Swede up the stairs to the second level. Their room was the one closest to the stairs leading to the kitchen, so at least they didn't have to pass Lukas' room. Before, he hadn't held much of an opinion for the Norwegian, but now, he felt his muscles tense simply at the thought of him, because that thought came with the image of him placing his lips against Berwald's forehead tenderly.

"You okay?' Berwald asked as they entered their room together.

He looked up at him and blinked stupidly as Berwald proceeded to walk over and set his bag down on the bed.

"Ber…was there," he looked down, debating whether or not to proceed, but then decided it was going to bother him unless he continued. "Was there ever anything between you and Lukas?"

He visibly froze for a moment, but tried to keep moving normally. Ludwig knew the answer then. He must have let his head drop further than he thought, however, because Berwald suddenly crossed the room back to him, and embraced him in a sudden, tight hug.

He wanted to shrug off the hug, to tell him that it really didn't matter and that he didn't care if Berwald had something with others in the past, but, he did care. He still wasn't sure if it actually mattered, as in, if it was going to affect anything, but he couldn't help the strange feeling of jealousy that was beginning to take form inside of him.

"Was a long time ago," Berwald muttered close to him.

He pressed himself into the Swede's sturdy figure and took a deep breath, his musky scent surrounding him. He began to hug him tighter, but then footsteps began up the stairs and Ludwig jerked away, feeling as if he was about to be caught doing something wrong. Berwald only let him go long enough for him to shut the door, and then took him back into his arms and held him tightly. He buried his face in his shoulder next to his neck and then half sighed, half grunted. It tickled. Ludwig laughed a little, trying to move out of his grasp, but his strong arms locked around him, preventing escape. He apparently realized what made him laugh though, and made the same noise into his neck, nuzzling him with his nose.

Ludwig laughed harder, trying again to wriggle free. "Stop that!"

"Laugh sounds nice," he murmured against his skin before relenting and kissing his neck gently.

They both hugged a bit tighter then, sighing deeply and heavily. Ludwig suddenly felt very tired then, despite how much sleep he'd had over the past twenty-four hours and yawned widely.

"Cute." Berwald said quietly, though it didn't sound as though it was actually saying it to him as much as stating it to himself, and took him to the bed, moving his bag to the floor and placing Ludwig's next to it so he could lie down.

"You won't need to take care of me like this all the time, you know," he felt he needed to tell him as he got settled on one side of the bed. "I'll heal soon,"

Berwald bent down and kissed his cheek and then his forehead. "Always take care of ya,"

He felt himself smiling even as he tried not to, and rolled to his side with an unintelligible grunt.

The tall Swede went about unpacking a few things but got into bed quickly, sliding up behind him closely and nuzzling his shoulder before lying his head down. Ludwig smiled and squeezed his hand as it slid beneath his own resting next to his chest.

He supposed that he could try to ignore anything that had happened between Berwald and Lukas in the past. After all, whatever happened then had ended, and this was what was happening now. He could take it at that. Right?

* * *

England, as it turned out, was actually really boring. Once it was decided that they didn't have to move any farther north for the mean time, they quickly ran out of things to do. They all spoke English well enough to get around, but it was always hard to go outside without feeling on edge. Inside the house, there was an awkward bit of tension between him and Lukas. Except for once when Berwald was out with the Icelander, Emil. Then, Lukas had casually engaged him in conversation, looking bored rather than irritated with his presence. He wasn't sure how to take that, but he slowly began to decide that if it continued, he'd punch a wall.

For now though, he decided to focus on settling in where he was. The others seemed easy enough to get along with, so that helped. He still felt a little strange regarding Tino, but he was a kind spirit and was willing to do most things in order to raise morale. Emil was quiet and a bit broody, being the youngest of them all by a few years, but he occasionally popped up beside him and asked him random questions about nearly anything. Ludwig didn't mind at all and after a few days of this, he found he actually rather liked speaking with the Icelander. The Dane, however, was the only one who seemed truly happy. Ludwig began to like him more and more, finding that he reminded him a lot of his brother.

Gilbert…

His stomach dropped. He knew the feeling of homesickness as well as the next solider, but this time it was certain that he was never going home. At least he got to say goodbye. His brother apparently believed him that he had been set up, but he knew the shame that came from being the family of a deserter. Yet, when he thought of his grandfather, his head dropped heavily. What would Gilbert tell him? What would he believe?

Gilbert could probably convince him that he was dead, but the image of his grandfather mourning his false death hurt him deeply. Still, he wasn't sure if it was worse than thought of the old German spitting and cursing every time he heard his youngest grandson's name. He was either going to break his grandfather's heart or fill it with shame, and all he had ever done was do as he was told. Why wasn't that enough?

"Hey, German," someone suddenly called.

He looked up from where he was sitting next to the window in the room he and Berwald shared, a neglected book in his lap.

"Yeah?" he answered, seeing the tall Dane standing in the doorway.

"How's your leg feeling?" he asked, smiling almost sympathetically.

Ludwig began to smile back just at Mathias' presence. "It feels like it's been fucking shot,"

He grinned hugely and leaned back into the hallway, shouting towards the stairs that led to the kitchen. "He says it feels shot!"

"Smart ass!" came Lukas' hollered response.

Mathias laughed as he entered the room fully. "I feel your pain,"

"You are my pain," he scoffed jokingly.

It was just so easy for him to talk around Mathias.

If it was possible, he smiled even wider and sat on the edge of the bed. "It couldn't have been _that_ bad, after all, you still fucking ran!"

Ludwig smirked, but cringed inwardly as he remembered the pain. "Well, you didn't leave me much of a choice."

"Maybe not, but you know, if we had been on schedule that night, we wouldn't have ever met you," he told him with a sudden shift to a sort of distant thoughtfulness.

He blinked in surprise, half at the information, half at the sudden mood change. "Really?"

The Dane grinned again, a bit more wryly, and nodded. "And there would have been one more bullet in each of our guns,"

He chuckled. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose,"

Mathias leaned back as he sighed and looked around casually before speaking again.

"So, you're fuckin' the Swede, huh?"

He was caught so off guard that he choked on his own gasp, and coughed hard as his ears and cheeks grew red and hot.

Laughing loudly he held up his hands and shook his head a little. "Hey, I'm not judging!"

Ludwig cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself, but he still had no idea how to respond. "Well…er, yeah,"

The blond with the wild hair laughed charmingly, making him smile a bit too, despite his embarrassment.

"So, does that mean you two are, you know," he began twisting his two fingers together for emphasis. "Together?"

Ludwig paused, honestly surprised by the question, but then began to smile as he looked down a bit. "Yeah, I guess we are,"

"Ah, well, that's good," the Dane cheered before standing again, but his mind was somewhere else, Ludwig could tell. "It'll be nice to see something other than everyone being so grim all the time,"

He then headed to the door.

Ludwig tilted his head slightly; Mathias was too easy for him to read, just like Gilbert.

"Mat?" he called.

"Hm?" he raised his eyebrows as he turned smoothly in the doorway.

Ludwig glanced away as he spoke. "Was that…was that about what happened with Lukas?"

He froze visibly, the exact same way Berwald had. It made him wonder if the Norwegian knew he had this effect on them.

"Maybe…it's something like that," he murmured in a uncharacteristically low tone, not meeting Ludwig's eyes.

Then he left, shutting the door behind him and heading back down the stairs.

Ludwig wasn't sure what to make of that, either.


	20. Chapter 20

_"__Ya warm?" Berwald asked._

_Idiot. Of course he was. Aside from the fire roaring right in front of them, he was wrapped up in a thick blanket in Berwald's strong arms. Still, in response, he leaned a bit more against the Swede's broad chest, sighing comfortably._

_"__I met a Dane today," Lukas told him after moment._

_Berwald's eyebrow arched a bit as he tried to look down at him. "Oh?"_

_"__He works at the general store in town." He nodded, pressing his cheek against his neck to hide from view. "You'd hate him."_

_A soft, deep chuckle reverberated through his chest._

_They sat together silently only for a minute longer before the taller man took a deep breath and kissed his forehead._

_"__Let's go to bed." he muttered, getting ready to stand._

_Lukas yawned, annoyed at the warmth that had left his side. "Fine,"_

_He went to stand, but suddenly everything fell away, and he was instead lifted up into Berwald's arms. He gave the order to be put down, but Berwald ignored him and instead gave him another kiss before carrying him to the bed._

_"__Goodnight, Lukas," he muttered as they curled up together._

_He tried to frown, but instead just snuggled closer. "Goodnight, Ber."_

Lukas awoke slowly, aware that he had dreamed a memory.

The room was dark, but the faint pale of morning was beginning to creep in through the window. Beside him, Mathias was still sleeping peacefully, his mouth open slightly and his hand brought up near his face. Lukas sighed and rubbed his eye tiredly, surprising himself by finding tears.

This hurt, it had always hurt. He thought he had made peace with it, but, no. He supposed he never really did.

With an annoyed sigh he turned over, trying to shut out the persistent thoughts and the pain in his chest. He didn't succeed, but how the hell he was supposed to defend against something like this? Something that was so powerful, but that came from inside of him. Like a disease.

Lukas fell back asleep with a string of whispered curses on his lips.

* * *

The morning followed much more normally as he swallowed down the feelings from the night before with breakfast. The day then passed uneventfully as Mathias and Tino played a few card games, letting Emil in after a few rounds, but then Lukas watched from the couch as he angrily marched away after an hour or so. Ludwig and Berwald were both reading quietly to themselves, and after a bit he decided to go work on the paperwork that was still sitting in the empty room they had designated as the office. He took the papers to the kitchen table and after a few pages Emil found his way down. He offered to help, but mostly just sat beside him and told him of the events that had passed since they had last seen each other. It had been nearly a year, after all, though Lukas talked to Emil more than the others.

He liked Emil. In fact, Lukas sometimes thought that in another life, he and Emil might have been brothers. Even if there were long periods of silence between them when they were together, he knew that just being near the Icelander helped to calm the younger's nerves. He hated to be alone; he didn't need to tell Lukas that for him to see it. He wasn't sure why, but he never talked about his family, so he thought that he might have simply been a lonely child. No one deserved to be lonely, Lukas thought, and even if Emil constantly complained about being around their group, or even people in general, he didn't mean it. Emil also didn't look as tired as he had when they had first arrive, he noticed, and it led Lukas to wonder if sleeping with someone else was helping him to rest better.

"And so I told him—why are you smiling?" Emil demanded, stopping in the middle of his story.

Lukas didn't look up from the paperwork. "Hm?"

Even without looking, he could clearly see the way he was being squinted at suspiciously. It made it harder not to smile.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing." Lukas told him.

He finished the paperwork by the time evening came around, but after dinner he somehow failed to notice Mathias and Tino's absence until they returned. Admittedly, it was inevitable, but Lukas still swallowed nervously as Mathias began to pull the bottles out of the bags he had returned with. Tino was grinning happily though, which seemed to make things feel less out of control, but he wasn't sure what they would do if the police arrived and there wasn't a single sober person to get the door. He certainly wasn't going to volunteer himself, though.

When they were all together in the main room, a fire lit in the fireplace against the wall, he began to relax a little more. It had been a long time since they had all gotten drunk together. Not since he and Mathias had moved out, but a while still. Emil ended up at his side, trying to hide his occasional hiccup while Mathias flailed about excitedly about something new every few minutes. Berwald and Ludwig were sitting side by side on the couch, laughing softly to each other and at Mathias being thrown away from them when he tried to sit on Ludwig's lap. With a sigh and another drink he absently thought that if not for this particular situation, he might have really liked Ludwig. He seemed kind and decent, for a deserting German soldier. Mathias seemed to like him. Emil too, in his own way, appeared to enjoy his company. They all had known each other for so long that even he had to admit it was interesting to have a new face in the group, if nothing else.

It grew late and they grew loud quickly.

After another shot with Mathias, Lukas lost his ability to speak almost entirely. It was probably for the best since he ended up shouting at Berwald and Mathias, and what he said had been more honest than he ever would have expressed otherwise. But Berwald just squinted at him as if he was far away and Mathias laughed and expressed himself in loud Danish words of love, making Tino giggle almost hysterically. Emil threw something at him and the room exploded in laughter when it came into contact with his forehead and he cursed loudly as he fell over.

After that he remembered only blurs of color and sound, but he gathered that Emil had gone upstairs and Tino was passed out on the floor beneath the couch, looking far too content to be moved. So, after he realized that Berwald and Ludwig were leaving, he felt a strange ache in his stomach and decided that it was time for him to go, too.

"Hey, were are you going?" Mathias called behind him.

"To bed!" He shouted, but the words still didn't sound right, even though he couldn't figure out what was wrong with them.

"Wait for me!" He laughed, apparently understanding, or perhaps just noticing that he was still climbing the stairs without him.

He stumbled a bit on one of the steps, but it was enough time for Mathias to catch up and sling his good arm around him, though he doubted he would have remembered not to throw his injured one. They struggled up the stairs together and somehow made it to their bedroom. Mathias seemed to have been trying to open the door for him, and he found himself laughing harder than he should have at his stupidly graceful bow. The next bit of blurring consisted of the two of them trying to get their shoes off and then collapsing on the bed. He thought they might have talked for a bit, half lying on each other, but before he could pass out blissfully, he heard a commotion down the hall and the sick feeling returned.

Mathias seemed to realize something had changed, and his eyes widened sadly as he tried to ask if he did something wrong. Lukas shook his head, frowning, but didn't speak. Mathias pulled him into a tight, warm hug and began rambling into his hair, apologizing anyway. Lukas tried to tell him to stop, but couldn't help pressing himself just a bit more into the Dane's warm chest. They were drunk after all; they wouldn't remember. However, as Mathias pulled back a bit to look at him, their eyes met gently and the sickness inside of him was suddenly replaced with a sense of tension. Would he really...?

Yes. As it turned out.

Only, it wasn't Mathias who kissed him. Lukas was the one who leaned forward that fraction of an inch in order to press their lips together. Mathias held him tighter though, allowing the kiss to continue and deepen.

What was he doing?

He wanted to stop, to pull away before things went farther, but, he didn't. He kissed the Dane without reserve, bringing his hands up to hold his face and the back of his neck. Mathias groaned into the kiss longingly.

Shut up, he thought. Don't do that.

Still, the pleasant way his lips move against his was enough to sap the strength it would have taken to hit him, or even just to push him away. The taller of the two trailed his tongue along his bottom lip, asking for entrance. He didn't give it immediately and felt him relentlessly patrol his lips with his tongue, searching for the slightest indication of access. When he did give in and parted his lips, he felt his mouth being gently explored, not roughly invaded like how he might have imagined a kiss with Mathias would be. Then, he felt the point of his tongue run over his, trying to invite him to participate. It worked, and Lukas slowly began to move his tongue over Mathias', feeling the wet muscles lap and entwine as though they had done his dance many times before.

The room suddenly swirled violently as he took in a deep breath, and he pulled his mouth from Mathias' just as he began to pass out. Falling back on his own pillow as the room continued to twirl, spiraling him down into unconsciousness, he was faintly able to see the strings of saliva that still connected their lips.

Strings of fate. Threads that bound them together.

His poetic thoughts were quickly doused when sleep fell upon him, heavy and unrelenting.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's note: Thank you for all of your kind comments! ^_^ I'll try to keep the updates coming as quickly as I can, but sorry if they slow down a bit, finals and all that good stuff. I also added a pairing to the story, I hadn't been sure about it earlier, but now I think that's becoming one of my favorite pairings. Anyway, here's Mathias!

* * *

He didn't want to wake up. Anything but that. His head was pounding louder than a bass drum and even the tiny bit of light that was leaking into the room made his eyes ache if he opened them. Instead, Mathias opted to roll over on his face and groan occasionally into the pillow as he remained willfully asleep. He slept passed noon before he sat up cautiously, immediately aware of something strange.

Lukas had left him to sleep. Lukas never left him to sleep.

Yet, the lack of any kind of threat or pillow to the face told him it was true. The room was empty except for himself, and as he crawled over until he was sitting in the center of the large bed, he frowned sadly. He couldn't have forgotten about him, right? The Dane yawned nervously, holding his still aching head as he ran his hand through his voluminous hair, and then faint memories of the night before began to return to him, along with one in particular.

A kiss.

Not just any kiss, but a kiss from Lukas. He let his hand drop to cover his lips, stunned as he replayed the memory over and over. Lukas had kissed him. Just like that. A strange sort of excitement began to swell inside of him, making his chest tight, and even with an immobilizing hangover, Mathias found himself starting to grin.

He knew it. He fucking _knew it_.

After resisting the temptation to grab himself into a giddy hug, he glanced at the clock, still covering his mouth. Everyone would probably be up by now. Lukas was probably downstairs. He wondered if he remembered, but, how could he not? Now that he was fully awake, the memory was incredibly clear to him. But he had to find out for certain.

Mathias climbed out of the warm bed and washed up, changing out of his rumpled clothes and wiggling into clean ones. Then, he tried to compose himself before heading out, as getting Lukas to admit to anything so embarrassing (it really was embarrassing, but in a good way) would take an awful lot of tact, but half way down the stairs he started beaming again.

He wasn't in the kitchen, however, so he passed through it, ignoring the half-hearted demands from his stomach, and headed to look for him in the main room. Tino and Berwald were sitting together on the couch, the tall Swede listening to the Fin chatter away happily, seeming relatively at ease. He grinned when Tino paused to wave and say good morning and Berwald grunted in greeting. However, when he found that Lukas wasn't there either his smile began to fall to a thoughtful frown.

"What are you doing?" Tino asked brightly when he continued to stand in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips.

"Where's Lukas?" he asked, maybe a bit more intensely than he'd meant.

"He went out shopping with Emil," he informed him helpfully.

"Oh," he said, unable to keep his shoulders from falling slightly with disappointment.

Tino looked like he wanted to investigate further, but he didn't, and instead turned back to Berwald with a smile and a question as to where he had paused in his story. They continued talking as Mathias headed back into the kitchen, food being his main focus now.

"Breakfast," he muttered to himself, searing the cupboards and the fridge and then groaned loudly. "Why don't we have anything to eat?"

Tino sounded like he laughed before he spoke. "That's why they went shopping!"

The Dane just continued to make noises of anguish, considering falling down and rolling around on the floor. Not only did he have to wait for Lukas to return to quiz him about the night before, he had to wait for him to return so he could eat. Plus he had a headache. He wanted to go back to bed.

Mathias walked back into the main room and fell into the plush chair, spreading himself out awkwardly and stuffing his face in the cushion.

Tino giggled and Berwald gave a slightly exasperated sigh.

"If you want, I can see if I can try to make something for you, but we don't have much to cook with," Tino offered.

Mathias could almost feel the look he was getting from Berwald and as he turned his head he saw the most alarmed expression the Swede could muster. He laughed loudly, which hurt his head a little, so he dropped it back into the chair but kept laughing.

"What?" Tino asked, and then he heard him shift as he looked at Berwald with a slightly lower tone. "What?"

He stuttered and mumbled innocently.

It made Mathias laugh harder. Now, he thought, all he needed was that damn Norwegian and it would feel like they were back in Sweden again.

An entire hour later, the door finally opened and Mathias hopped up excitedly, already on his way over before Lukas loudly ordered someone to come help him and Emil put the groceries away. He looked at him strangely, seeing that he was the first to offer assistance, but didn't reject him. As the three of them went into the kitchen, Mathias closely watched Lukas for any sign of anything abnormal.

Three minutes passed.

Nothing happened other than food being put away neatly at Lukas' orders. He was beginning to feel rather disheartened when, while handing him the last bag of groceries, their fingers brushed. It was barely even able to be considered contact, but it was obvious. Lukas almost dropped the bag and turned around quickly, not looking at him. He had to bite his cheeks to keep from grinning. So that was something.

Again, as they made lunch together for everyone, since their chance at breakfast had long passed, while moving passed him to get to the stove, he let the back of his hand lightly skim the back of Lukas' arm, and was able to see the way his entire body tensed up as he jerked a bit, as if he had been electrocuted. He must not have been as subtle as he thought, however, because Lukas glanced over his shoulder at him once he was composed, and the intensity caused the Dane to freeze as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. After that, the harder Lukas tried to hide any reaction he had to Mathias, the more obvious it became that he did indeed remember at least part of the night before.

The only thing left to decide was what he would do with this information.

* * *

Later, he found himself out on a short walk with Tino, who he had noticed had been itching to get out of the house, but had missed going with Lukas and Emil. Mathias had told him he would go along for safety, but he honestly felt that he needed to get out, too.

They strolled side by side along the stone pavement, hands in their pockets as their feet left prints in the light, wet snow. It was strange how snow could change depending on the place. Back in Sweden it was thick, powdery, and fell with every intention of sticking until the thawing seasons, but here, it sometimes changed from snow to rain and back to snow in a single storm. Sleet, they sometimes called it. Ew. Still, the air was cold and clean, a nice change from the close, too-warm air that recirculated through their small house over and over again.

Tino took a deep breath which turned into a puffy sigh, and Mathias tilted his head, aware that was usually the signal that the Fin was about to speak.

"You know, I'm glad that Lukas shot Ludwig."

Whatever Mathias had expected him to say, it wasn't that.

"_Huh?_"

Tino giggled innocently. "I mean, I'm glad that he ended up coming with us, and stuff,"

"Oh," the Dane said, but kept an eyebrow quirked. "Why?"

He would have rubbed his arm if his hands hadn't been in his pockets, Mathias knew enough about the short Fin to tell that much. "Well, because, you know…"

"Because he's got the Swede's attention?" he asked, his eyebrow falling into place and a slight smirk crossing his lips.

Tino crinkled his nose adorably as if he didn't like the way he phrased it, but nodded. "Yeah."

They were quiet as an older couple passed by, glancing at them over thick scarves and large coats, unable to understand why the two Scandinavians looked so amused by their clothing, wearing nothing more than light jackets and gloves over normal clothing. As they headed away from the buildings and along a path lined with sleeping trees, Mathias looked down at him again.

"Do you miss it at all?" he found himself wanted to know.

Tino regarded him thoughtfully with his round eyes, and then stared ahead again thoughtfully. "…No."

"No?"

"Well, not really." he admitted, pausing to admire a beautiful waxwing perched on the bare branch of a tall bush. "But, now that Ludwig's here, I guess I can see what he meant in doing, things that he did."

Mathias listened quietly. He knew how shy and awkward Berwald was, and sometimes he escaped his understanding entirely, but Lukas certainly seemed to understand most of what he did, if not everything. Sometimes that began to annoy him, but hearing Tino say that he understood his behavior now made him feel a little better.

"Not that I'd change the way things are now," he added quietly.

They glanced at each other briefly as their road led them up to a quaint stone bridge, which they walked to the height of and then stopped to look into the river. It was only slightly swollen from the snowfall, accustomed to the wetness known to this part of the island nation. Still, it flowed smoothly, creating a strangely glass-like effect below them, reflecting the bridge and them on top of it artistically.

"You know, when I was little, my brother told me that trolls lived under bridges, and that they demand tolls for you to cross them. He also said that if you try to cross without paying, they'll drag you under and eat you." Tino was smiling softly in memory, even as he retold a story that he must have been scared of for years. "I didn't cross a bridge by myself until I was almost ten."

Mathias looked down at their watery reflections. "…My brother threw me off a bridge once and I almost drown,"

Tino let out that surprised, high-pitched laugh and then covered his mouth with a gloved hand. "That's terrible,"

"So are brothers," he winked and smiled wryly.


	22. Chapter 22

Berwald decided to leave Lukas alone; he seemed to have something on his mind, and there were already two broken dishes. He remained in the main room, tensely, until he heard the irritated Norwegian head upstairs and shut the door to his bedroom. Then he finally let out his breath. Lukas wasn't cruel, at least, not to anyone but Mathias, but it still wasn't a good idea to willingly move within his immediate reach. Or sight. Or throwing range.

Once he was safely settled in the armchair, he tried to direct his attention to his book, but it kept returning to the window. Tino and Mathias were out, Emil had disappeared for the second time that week with only Lukas knowing where he went, Ludwig was upstairs reading, and Lukas had locked himself away for now, but still, he didn't feel quite right. He felt as though there was something he had left undone. He fidgeted, he adjusted his glasses, reread the same three lines and then sighed and sat back.

He wasn't home.

More than that, he found didn't _want_ this to be home.

He wanted to go back to Sweden, back to his own house, and to sit in his own chair to read. He wanted to sleep in a bed that he properly fit in, and to see blue sky when he looked out the window. Berwald moved his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He didn't like change, even with little things, he was sensitive to it, but now he felt as though his life was practically unrecognizable. He missed knowing every type of tree, bird, and animal he saw, and being able to tell what kind of day it would be just by watching the sunrise. Being in a different place with different trees and a different sunrise made him feel like he didn't belong. He was out of place. A stranger.

There was some kind of small commotion above him about where he gathered Lukas would be, and he cautiously resettled his glasses. He hoped Ludwig wouldn't be so unfortunate as to stumble into him at a time like this; he had already shot him once, after all. He wondered if he should go warn him, but then worried that them being together with Lukas as the only other person in the house just might grate even worse on his nerves, and decided against it. If things got bad, he could probably get up the stairs before anyone got shot, again.

Absently, he thought that if they were back in Sweden, Lukas would have taken off into the forest by now. He could be gone an entire day before returning just as the sun fell. Berwald never knew where he went, but he had no intention of asking. Lukas didn't need to justify what he did to him. Sometimes though, if he was still in a sour mood after a day of being alone in the forest, Berwald would take him and they would go fishing together. It didn't matter if they caught anything, and sometimes they didn't say a word the entire trip, but it usually seemed to help a little, and the next day he would be back to himself. He began to wonder if that would work for when Ludwig got upset…Not that he had thought to bring any kind of fishing gear. Damnit.

He just wanted to go home. Berwald tipped over a bit in the chair, falling until his head came into contact with the arm rest, and then made a face at how far he had to bend his back in order to reach it. He envied the way little Tino seemed to be able to curl up just about anywhere and sleep easily. He barely fit in the damn bed. Stubbornly remaining in the awkward position until his back threatened to crack, he grumbled under his breath about small chairs and beds before removing the book from his lap and standing with a deep breath. Looking around the room, searching for nothing in particular but a decision, he sighed and decided that he would go see Ludwig after all. If Lukas got upset enough, he'd to talk to him. Until then, however, he couldn't bear to force himself to read any more.

Berwald climbed the stairs, being as quiet as he could, at least. Then, he traveled down the hall to the room he shared with the meticulous blond, and saw the door was opened about half way. He approached slowly, feeling himself want to smile at the calm scene of Ludwig beside the window with a book, scanning the pages almost as if he were checking it for errors. Those hard eyes, accented by intense eyebrows, fell across each page with a perfectly steady pace, moving back and forth with more precision than a metronome.

With the slightest sound of scraping, he slid his middle finger beneath the right page, and then after his eyes moved left to right exactly two more times, he turned the page with more control and grace than the inner workings of a clock. He caught the page with the thumb of his left hand and smoothed it before he resumed his perfect pace. Berwald finally actually began to smile when he realized by watching his chest, he could in fact see that his breathing was timed at an inhale every line and a half with deeper breaths coming during the third paragraph of every page at the four line.

He wasn't sure why, but he felt that he could have watched him like that forever and treasured knowing his pattern of breathing.

Eventually though, perhaps due to the feeling he was being (intensely) watched, Ludwig glanced up as he took a deep breath on the third paragraph at the fourth line, and spotted him in the doorway. He blinked in surprise, but didn't squeak like how Tino always did when he caught him staring.

Instead, a smile began to cross his lips. "How long are you going to stare at me?"

Berwald smiled back, blushing a bit at hearing his own words repeated back to him, recalling the morning Ludwig had woken up and simply stared at him until he had gotten up.

Entering the room, he walked over to him, placing himself behind the chair tactfully.

"What are you-?"

He then bent down, putting his hand on the book and pushing it down into his lap dismissively as he tilted his chin up with his other hand, and kissed him. He made sure to tilt his head so it didn't feel like and awkward, upside-down kiss, and after recovering from being surprised a second time, Ludwig smiled charmingly and began to kiss him back.

When they parted though, he hadn't realized he had moved his hand away from the book, and Ludwig simply smiled at him before returning his attention to the volume. With his precise way of reading, he wasted no time in finding his place and continuing down the page. Berwald frowned. He was above simply taking the book and tossing it out the damn window, but not by much. He wanted Ludwig's attention, and wasn't going to have a piece of literature to serving as his rival.

So, he walked around to the front of the chair and dropped to his knees. Ludwig's reading hitched as he watched him from his peripherals, but didn't look up fully. If he was trying to tease him now, Berwald had no intention of playing along, and removed his glasses before pushing the book out of the way and laying the upper part of his body across Ludwig's lap.

The German chuckled and set the closed book aside before he began to run his fingers through his hair.

"You made me lose my page," he told him, but there was no honest scorn in his voice.

"You'll find it again," he told him with his eyes closed, melting against his legs as he had failed to estimate how good it would feel to have someone play with his hair.

He laughed again and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers lightly ran across his scalp to the back of his neck, and then down his back and shoulders a little ways. He shuttered and wrapped his arms around Ludwig as best he could, not wanting him to stop.

"Where did the others go?" he asked.

Ludwig never sounded curious when he asked questions; he sounded like he was requesting a report.

Berwald grumbled incoherently, communicating that he didn't know. He thought that Tino might have said something about a walk, but then Ludwig's fingers ran back up his neck into his hair and he lost his train of thought. No one ever touched his hair, but then again, most people couldn't usually reach.

After a moment, however, he realized that he was actually almost never touched at all. Lukas didn't like to touch very much, sometimes wouldn't even shake people's hands, Tino had clearly been too nervous to do anything of the sort, and Mathias' main form of contact involved throwing his arm over people's shoulders and yanking them. He didn't really appreciate that, and by now the Dane knew better. He quietly thought that he rather liked being touched though, especially by Ludwig. Especially his hair.

"You're back's going to hurt if you fall asleep like that," Ludwig informed him after a moment, sounding like he was smiling.

"Worth it." he told him after a moment.

Ludwig chuckled again and gave him another kiss. "Come on; go lie down on the bed,"

"Better not take that damn book," he warned with a smile as he moved off of him, stealing another kiss as he stood up.

By the time the door opened downstairs signaling the return of Mathias and Tino, Ludwig had nearly put him to sleep. He tirelessly ran his fingers over his back and down his arms, curving under them to brush the sensitive underside of his wrists and palm. It made him shiver, but it also made him feel incredibly relaxed. Sometimes he let his nails lightly scrape the back of his neck when they trailed across it, causing his skin to ripple with chills all the way down his body. Ludwig occasionally spoke, but only muttered things about how calm he looked, or how he liked the shape of his face. It made him blush, and if his arms hadn't been so relaxed he would have hidden his reddening cheeks. Yet, by not covering up he earned a few kisses to his cheeks and forehead, and that made it worth it to him.

He wondered how often he could get Ludwig to do this, and realized that it would take all of his self-control not to go lie on his lap the next time he saw him reading.


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry this update took so long, but there's a lot to it and a lot of notes at the end , but it encompasses Christmas, so, enjoy!

* * *

Winter in England was nothing like winter in Germany.

Ludwig tried not to think about it, about Christmas coming nearer, brining memories of his grandfather and brother, and all of the pain those memories now carried. Yet every time he passed a window and saw the snow that wetly clung to the city around them, he sighed. Winter in Germany was much grander. He had been eager to see how it compared to a Swedish winter, and so now felt rather disappointed.

Having completed a pointless lap around the house, he climbed the stairs to head back to the bedroom to read, again, secretly feeling almost sad that Berwald hadn't come to interrupt him again. Admittedly it would be a bad habit for him to develop if it did it constantly, but he couldn't help partially wishing that he would come seek out his attention again.

As Ludwig began down the hallway, however, he spotted Lukas coming out of one of the rooms. Only, it wasn't the room he shared with Mathias. The room he was exiting was the room Ludwig shared with Berwald. Lukas looked directly at him, those entrancing eyes making him slow his step until he paused a few feet away. He didn't say anything, and didn't offer any explanation as to what he had been doing, he simply stared at him until he blinked, and then turned around and walked down the hall to his own room, shutting the door without looking back. His entire body felt almost tense as walked forward and looked inside the room. Nothing seemed immediately out of place, but as he entered he spotted something resting on the chair that sat beside the window. He approached the chair and then lifted the foreign object into his hands slowly.

Ludwig had seen Lukas with a sketchbook in his lap a few times, but had never seen any of his drawings until now. Centered on the piece of paper that had been left on the chair was a beautiful drawing of a small cluster of hellebore. The flowers were drawn to their actual size and each had their own unique details, as though he had drawn it while looking at the real thing, although Ludwig was certain he hadn't. The lightly sketched background seemed to suggest snowfall, and the faintness with which the details of the broad petals were drawn suggested that they were white with dark stems, exactly as they would look this time of year.

Hellebore was an ever-green plant that flowered even in winter in Germany. His grandfather had meticulously kept some in the garden on the side of the house that had once been planted by his grandmother before she passed away. Gilbert called the plant the "Christmas rose", and had kept one pressed between the pages of a booklet he always carried with him, though the rest of the small book's content was a secret, even from him.

He shook his head and was about to set the drawing back down when he noticed some writing at the bottom of the page, and then blinked in surprise.

"_For Ludwig._" it said simply.

He stood there for a long time, simply staring at the drawing. He wondered what had compelled him to do such a strange thing. A drawing like this would have certainly taken a fair amount of time, not that they had much else to do, but he hadn't been certain of the terms he was on with Lukas. Was this some form of a peace offering? But what about the odd delivery? He could have handed it to him, or said something when he came up the stairs, but he didn't. Why?

After a bit he simply decided that if Lukas had something to say, he would say it, and for now he should just thank him when he saw him next. He wasn't sure if it was completely by chance that the Norwegian had chosen to draw hellebore over any other flower, but he found himself rather touched by the sentiment, and promised himself he would make sure to find a safe place to keep the drawing.

* * *

They spent Christmas in England, and needless to say, it was strange. However, it wasn't strange because he was spending it in England, it was strange because everyone in the household began to act utterly bizarre as they approached the eventful week.

It started with Tino, who began cleaning much more intensely than usual. Obsessively, almost. He even cleaned up things that weren't his, which led to a few minor issues. Ludwig didn't think much of it at first, but then he realized how it had seemed to put the others on edge. That was strange. Next, Berwald, Lukas, and Tino all left one day and returned with tons of white candles in their arms. After that, even Mathias looked anxious. Ludwig tried to ask Berwald what was happening, but he didn't hear him, appearing deep in thought, and after the third time repeating himself he gave up and decided that he would eventually find out.

The house felt tense. Clean, but tense.

With the arrival of Christmas Eve, the tension seemed to peak during the day, but when the sun fell, it disappeared as if it had never been. When it was dark enough, all of the lights were turned off, replaced with dozens of pale candles that were spread out around the main room and kitchen, giving the house an aura that could have been described as consecrated, or maybe just cozy. The Scandinavians finally smiled and Lukas and Emil made a few holiday foods for all of them, the likes of which Ludwig had never even heard of, but enjoyed nonetheless.

They sat together that night in the main room and Berwald finally pulled him close as they sat together. He didn't seem so distracted anymore, and was instead contently observed the activities in the room from behind Ludwig's shoulder, occasionally giving him small, shy kisses when he thought no one was looking. It forced Ludwig to continuously cover his mouth to avoid grinning like an idiot throughout the night.

They ate and drank a little, laughing and telling stories about Christmases past. Mathias told a story about one year when he and his brothers accidently caught their Christmas tree on fire, and everyone laughed while Berwald mumbled something strange about a goat which Tino heard and giggled so hard he tipped over. Ludwig frowned, not understanding, but laughed a little at the blond rolling on the ground beside them.

Before the night grew too late, however, Mathias had slipped into the kitchen to fetch a bag of almonds he had been watching strangely for a few days and returned with some kind of rice pudding that contained the carefully watched almonds. He gave a bowl to each of them and grinned widely before asking Ludwig what Christmas was like in Germany.

This earned him a lot of attention he would have rather avoided, but they all seemed to be genuinely interested in the kinds of traditions he was familiar with coming from Germany. He told them of the popular Advent calendars his grandfather used to give to him and his brother when they were young and also of the toy nutcrackers they would play with. Emil quietly told him that if he brought something like that to Iceland during this time of year, it would come to life. Mathias laughed loudly at him but Ludwig frowned as he remembered thinking that some of them had looked rather frightening to him when he was a child.

That night Mathias hugged everyone as they went up to bed, and although Lukas tried to punch him, he managed to nimbly move around his fist and grabbed him up in a tight hug, which made everyone chuckle a little. Berwald and Ludwig went to bed together as they normally did, although the Swede kept a candle lit in their room for the rest of the night, but wouldn't tell him why. He suspected a few others did the same, though.

* * *

Christmas morning came at last, and everyone was awakened at the crack of dawn by a pajama-wearing Mathias. Ludwig, who was more accustomed to waking up early and at a moment's notice, then watched each of the others sleepily stumble down the stairs, looking as though the only thing that was preventing any of them from murdering the Dane in cold blood was the holiness of this particular day, and perhaps the considerable amount energy it would take to catch him. Mathias seemed oblivious to the deadly vibes that emanated from the others, and happily bounced around them, hugging everyone he could get his arms around.

Most of the others headed straight to the kitchen to start the coffee and begin making food, but once Tino rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he greeted Mathias happily and they sang a little. Ludwig laughed and tried to help as much as he could, and after a chaotic breakfast where they ended up cooking at eating at the same time in an attempt to have holiday food ready for later, they made it to the main room and exchanged gifts.

It had been hard to go shopping discretely (and honestly, to go shopping at all, even with the attempts British propaganda was making to keep things hopeful and cheerful), but Berwald and Tino had both gone with him a few days before, and he had managed to pick up something for each of them. Not to mention Lukas actually smiled at him when he saw the new sketchbook he had got for him, which made him smile back even wider. Mathias got alcohol from almost everyone, which made everyone laugh, if not nervously. Emil had been given a new jacket by Lukas, since his old, brown one was nearly falling apart, and the Icelander gave him an awkward side hug as thanks, which appeared to amuse the Norwegian who took him into a larger hug suddenly and against his will.

Mathias gave Ludwig a necklace with a strange cross-shaped pendant, and when he looked up questioningly, he realized that all of them wore something similar. The Dane proudly told him that he offered it to him because he wanted him to become an "official" member of their group and they both shared sentimental smiles while Emil and Lukas scoffed and Berwald rolled his eyes.

As things began to calm down, however, Tino's smile grew large enough to indicate that he was hiding something. When he was finally questioned about it, he simply jumped up excitedly and ran upstairs. Everyone looked to Emil for an explanation as his roommate, but he only frowned at them and ate the licorice Berwald had managed to get for him in silence. After a moment, Tino returned with a festive hat and an oddly shaped bag. He grinned widely as he gave them each a present from the bag, shouting about Christmas in Finnish while they laughed.

He sensibly gave Mathias a red bottle opener, which he had painted with a white cross to resemble the Danish flag. He looked torn between the want to laugh and cry as he got up and hugged the shorter Finn. Emil received a strange gift of black thread and a few black patches of cloth, which he quickly set away, but looked at Tino with a rare expression of honest thanks. He gave Lukas an even stranger gift, however, which was a rather impressive butter knife. By the way the two looked at each other, he gathered it was an inside joke. Then, he gave Ludwig a bar of German chocolate, surprising everyone, but when he was questioned as to how to had managed to obtain the item in question, the Finn just winked cheerfully and turned to the last person in their group. By then, they had all realized that the bag was moving.

"Er, what's that?" Mathias asked him loudly, trying out his new bottle opener successfully.

"Remember the puppies we saw in the window when we were shopping?" Tino asked, positively beaming as he spoke.

Berwald looked mildly fearful, but nodded after a moment. Ludwig remembered that, too; it was when they had all gone together. The tall, seemingly-stoic Swede had almost been left behind as Ludwig and Tino walked on because he had been playfully tapping on the store window as tiny, white puppies tried to catch his finger through the glass. The bag let out a high-pitched bark and Mathias laughed in disbelief as the Finn reached inside and drew out the last item: a tiny, white puppy with a red ribbon around its neck.

He bent down and let the small dog into Berwald's lap. He stared down at it and it stared up at him, and then excitedly began trying to catch his fingers when he offered them, successfully capturing his index finger at last. He smiled affectionately at the small, fluffy creature, and then looked up at Tino and tilted his head almost shyly.

"Thanks, Tino," he said softly.

He seemed to stutter a bit, but still smile cheerfully. "Of course,"

The rest of Christmas Day was mostly spent playing with the new puppy and eating strange food. As they tried to name the dog, however, they quickly decided that, although Tino had been the one to give Berwald the small dog, he was not very good at naming it.

"Hmm," Tino had appeared to honestly be deep in thought before speaking. "Sardine Panic."

Everyone seemed to be waiting for Tino to admit he was joking, but when he didn't, Ludwig and Mathias had laughed so hard they fell over on each other while Lukas and Berwald exchanged very concerned expressions.

"What, seriously?" Emil asked him in disbelief.

Tino looked at him with his eyebrows raised innocently, as if that were a perfectly normal name.

"Well, I like it," Mathias told him as he pushed himself back up, trying to smother his grin to look serious, but ended up only smiling wider as he attempted to call the dog to him before he fell over on Ludwig again, dissolving utterly into laughter. "Come here, little Sardine Panic,"

"Well, how about…" everyone hushed to hear the next idea. "Cheese Castle?"

Another loud roar of laughter sounded from Ludwig and Mathias.

"For the love of God, _no!_" Lukas cried as Emil let out a noise of anguish.

Berwald's expression as he stared at the Finn was that of a broken man.

Tino frowned a bit around the room and then studied the poor, innocent dog once more. "I've got it: Bloody-Hanatamago."

Ludwig almost couldn't breathe with how hard he was laughing. What did that even mean?

"…how about just Hanatamago?" Berwald asked as the small puppy rolled over so he could pet its stomach.

"Could we call her Hana for short?" Mathias asked, wiping his eyes and helping Ludwig to sit back up too.

"Hana sounds nice," Ludwig added.

"It sounds normal," Lukas murmured, and Ludwig and the Dane had to stifle a few chuckles.

Tino looked slightly disappointed, but Berwald was smiling, and after a moment he looked back down at the dog.

"Come here, Hana," he called experimentally.

The puppy in question stared at him for a moment, and then rolled back over on to his paws and made his way onto the Finn's lap. Mathias cheered happily and Berwald nodded in satisfaction.

"Hana's good, too," Tino smiled in a good-spirited manner, and after the puppy moved off his lap, everyone took turns hugging him again.

But, for the rest of the holiday, anytime someone said anything about cheese or sardines the room burst into laughter, which was followed by Finnish curses.

Christmas away from home wasn't so bad this year, Ludwig thought.

* * *

Okay, there's a few notes for this section:

First of all, it's come to my attention that the proper terms are "Finn" and "Finnish", sorry about that.

Second, the weirdness among everyone but Ludwig was supposed to be sort of a play on the fact that nearly all the holidays in their corresponding countries are a little different and on different days because when Christianity began to dominate the area, they used holidays like Christmas to cover up the pagan holidays in order to get people to convert more easily. So, for example, the thing about getting tons of candles while they're acting all weird is reference to the old pagan festival of light that was held in the middle of winter. Now, in countries like Sweden, they celebrate St. Lucia's Day (or St. Lucy's Day) on December 13th, which is a celebration that still centers around lights and candles and stuff, but is Christian themed instead.

Things like Tino cleaning up before is based of Finnish tradition, as is Mathias' thing about almonds (it's typical to made a special kind of rice pudding on Christmas Eve that includes almonds).

When Emil mentions nutcrackers coming to life, it's actually more of a reverence to New Year's Eve/Day, since in Iceland there are many traditions of magical events that happen on that day (some even include the dead rising o.o).

When Berwald mutters about goats it's in reference to the "Yule Goat" (also called the Gävle Goat). Even though the tradition of building the large one most are familiar with didn't start officially until the 1960's, the tradition of goats being associated with yule-time holidays far enough back to be connected with the Norse god Thor.

Finally, the bit about the necklace they give Ludwig is sort of a reference to the "Nordic Cross". It's not an actual cross, even though the description is vague, it's intended to suggest something more between the Christian cross, which is a t shape, and the Nordic symbol of Mjölnir (Thor's Hammer), which is more of a T shape. The ambiguity is on purpose.


	24. Chapter 24

After Christmas, everything seemed to change, but in a strangely distant way.

Tino and Ludwig seemed almost afraid to go outside anymore. Lukas wasn't, and he made a point of it. While Germany was occupying his homeland, the Norwegian government was technically now here in Britain. Lukas often wondered if that wasn't part of why they had come; Emil had never given him a real reason. And then without a real explanation, he informed them that they would, at last, be going to Iceland.

British troops had been previously stationed in Emil's home although the country still declared itself neutral, but they had been replaced with soldiers from the United States, because they had also been a neutral nation. Since they had entered the war earlier in December, however, the Marines they had originally set to occupy Iceland were moving out, and new soldiers were coming in to replace them. Somehow, Emil reasoned this made it a good time to go.

It was strange to pack up their small house with the knowledge that they wouldn't be going home. Well, Emil would be, though he didn't seem very happy about it.

But Mathias was happy enough for everyone.

That damn Dane was bouncing around more than the puppy was. And that wasn't all he was doing, either.

It had been clear to Lukas that Mathias hadn't been quite as drunk as he had hoped that fateful night a few weeks before Christmas. He hadn't confronted him directly, as he had expected, and instead chose to try to get Lukas to admit recalling the event in subtle ways. It was probably very obvious that he remembered something, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. Still, Mathias smiled in that knowing way that made the Norwegian want to stab something with the butter knife Tino had given him, especially when he occasionally tried to lean over to him smoothly, looking the way he did when he hit on women. Lukas would try to hit him with anything he could get his hands on, but Mathias seemed to be careful about when and where he made such moves. It was severely unlike him.

And yet, sometimes he was the same as always; oblivious to everyone and everything around him. Lukas wasn't sure if it was a clever part of whatever game he was trying to play with him, or if his attention span simply ran out a times. But the more this went on, the more it put Lukas on edge until he could hardly sit still, much less stand to go to bed with the unpredictable Dane. He had considered asking Tino to switch rooms so he could instead sleep with Emil, but he knew that Mathias was hard to get used to as a sleeping partner, and didn't want to subject anyone so innocent and passive to his loud snoring and total disregard for personal space.

As Lukas was nearly finished packing up his things, he heard someone pause in the doorway. In truth, he had heard the heavy boots the moment they started up the stairs, but he pretended he didn't. However, no immediate words came from the newly arrived figure.

He tried to ignore it as best he could, but after a few minutes of feeling the weight of eyes on his back, he turned sharply.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Lukas' mouth went dry as soon as his words left his mouth, however, because there in the doorway stood a rather startled looking Berwald.

"We're leavin' in a few," he shifted awkwardly on his feet after bowing his head in an apologetic manner. "You ready?"

He nodded slowly, able to feel his cheeks burning with his embarrassment. "Almost,"

The tall Swede looked like he might have wanted to say more, but he only nodded before leaving.

Lukas took a deep breath, rubbing his face as he turned back and finished shoving the rest of his belongings into his pack. It couldn't be healthy to be this tense for so long. He tried to tell himself to relax, and took a few deep breaths. As soon as he finished packing up, he glanced around the room with a sort of farewell in mind, and then slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to leave.

"Hiya Luke," Mathias' figure had seemingly materialized in the doorway; a lesser man would have screamed.

Lukas' body froze as his heart sputtered back to life, but it was only before he was able to actually register what he was seeing, and then his stomach sunk coldly. Mathias was smiling _that_ smile. It was something between a friendly grin and a fucking smirk. It seemed to encourage the Dane's voice to dip lower as his eyes blinked almost lazily, but this only heightened the sensation that Lukas was under a predator's gaze. He felt as though Mathias was able to notice every detail about him and he decided that a Mathias that was cognizant of his surroundings, of himself in particular, filled him with a strange feeling of terror. The kind of terror that gave rise of ancient instincts.

Lukas was certain he would have jumped out the window to escape, if only it wouldn't involve having to turn his back to the sly Dane. So instead he was figuring where he'd have to kick him in order to knock him back hard enough for Lukas to be able to get out the door, when Mathias chuckled, and somehow crushed his train of thought.

It was enough of a jolt to get him to speak, however.

"What do you want?" he asked a second time, the sharply spoken question finally demanded of the intended person.

He shrugged coolly, but his eyes still held that damned smirk. "Nothin',"

His tall frame was still blocking the door. Lukas swallowed without meaning to. Mathias saw it. When he show that smile again, it showed off a bit of his teeth.

They stared at each other intensely for a moment before Mathias took a deep breath, and then stepped into the room fully. The casual way he was trying to move only seemed to enhance the predacious accent that now surrounded him entirely.

Lukas took a step back, even though he hadn't intended to. Ancient instincts. It made him want to cover his throat.

Mathias looked like he was about to speak, or was perhaps just smiling wider, but the something sliced so cleanly through the tension that Lukas almost choked.

"Time to go!" Emil's impatient voice hollered up the stairs.

When the wild-haired Dane turned to throw a glance at the doorway, Lukas saw his opportunity. He quickly ducked around Mathias and almost ran to the door, feeling his lungs constrict at the feeling of turning his back to him. He _hated_ turning his back on anyone he felt a threat from. Except, he always turned his back to Mathias because it was a pointed way of ignoring him. In other words, he had never felt this from him before.

He hadn't moved as far away as he had meant before he heard a solid footstep that signaled Mathias turning to follow him. It only took him one long step before he was behind Lukas, and when he felt his long arms wrap all the way around him, pack and all, he honestly felt as though he was about to shriek.

But, Lukas somehow managed to let out his breath as a heavy sigh rather than a scream. Idiot.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, although it sounded less irritated than he felt.

"Huggin' you," Mathias told him from the back of his neck and gave him a harder squeeze for emphasis.

Lukas wasn't sure why, but it felt like the coldness that had caused his stomach to sink had changed temperature, and was now instead rising up towards the back of his throat. Was a hug from Mathias enough to make him sick now?

"Let go." he ordered, twisting in his tight grasp until he could push on his face.

He laughed, but held on a moment longer before relenting and releasing him.

Lukas stumbled a bit as he fell back, and then sniffed in an exasperated manner before readjusting his pack on his shoulder and marching to the stairs without Mathias. He wasn't far behind him, however; he could just _feel_ those eyes on his back. He was enjoying this in the same sadistic way a cat would enjoy toying with a mouse. But Lukas was no mouse, and if Mathias kept this up, he'd find that out the hard way.

When he made it to the front door, Mathias in tow, Berwald stared them down as if they were children arriving home passed their curfew.

"What?" Mathias jeered at him.

Lukas had no intention of going along with whatever what happening, and bypassed the Swede without saying a word, heading out to the taxi cab that was waiting for them outside, already loaded up.

Emil, Tino, and Ludwig were standing outside of the car, but had yet to get in. How the hell were they all going to fit?

"Emil, you can sit on my lap," Tino was saying with that blissfully ignorant smile.

The boy in question frowned and crossed his arms. "I'm bigger than you,"

It was true. He had grown since the last time they had all been together, and Tino was very short. He used to joke that it was because his brothers had taken all the height, but this joke seemed to make him sad, and so he stopped telling it.

"He can sit with me," Lukas said as he walked up.

Emil looked at him like he wanted to complain, but didn't. Maybe because he was looking at him and thinking that if he did complain, he would make him sit on Berwald. Emil just might have picked up on that.

Lukas then stepped forward and opened the door, which was enough to usher Tino into the middle, and Mathias after he came sprinting out to get his designated seat beside the Finn. Lukas got in with a quiet curse while Ludwig got in on the other side, next to Tino. Emil didn't get in until Berwald finished locking the front door and headed down to the car, tiny Hana in his arms. He might have seemed surprised that they all got in the back, but then again, he had been the one to take the lead since the beginning; it would feel weird if he sat in the back. Besides, if anyone else were to sit up front, say a particularly annoying Dane, their driver might just pull over and kick them out before they were half way there.

It was a little uncomfortable with Emil on his lap since he had indeed gotten bigger, but more uncomfortable than that was the strangely smug way Mathias grinned as the sides of their bodies were pressed together. Lukas wanted to hit him, but couldn't get his arm up high enough with them packed in so tightly. So, he settled for childishly pinching him if he moved around too much. It was enough to sate him for a few miles at a time.

Their driver seemed to want to chat, though. He commented on the war and Berwald said something curt in Swedish. Their then driver stopped trying to chat. He could see Emil trying to smother a grin and found himself trying to do the same.

The fucking people he got mixed up with…


	25. Chapter 25

This is a patchwork chapter, so it includes all four main characters' perspectives. Enjoy!

* * *

_Lukas_

It would take them a few days to reach Iceland, but there was always the risk of bad weather this time of year which would lengthen their journey. It had actually been fairly difficult to find anyone willing to take them, even though the presence of German U-boats in the area had been decreasing. Or at least, that's what they heard. It was hard to trust anything anymore, but it was war.

Still, regardless of the threat of being sunk by Germans or by an angry sea god, Lukas couldn't help but think that there was nothing quite like being at sea. It was simply a different world. The feeling of timelessness brought on by a watery horizon on all sides always got to him the way few other things could, but once the mystical feeling began to fade into the background of his mind, the lapping waves tugged forward thoughts he had intended to suppress.

Mathias was primary subject of his mind, and this annoyed him intensely. He was like that, though; Mathias demanded attention and Lukas loathed giving it to him, even though he obviously did it anyway. He had yet to act out since they had gotten aboard the rocking vessel, however. Lukas was certain that this put him even more on edge.

Heavy boots sounded near him, and he tensed before he recognized Berwald's figure draped in his long coat passing him slowly, as if trying not to startle him. He didn't pause, and he didn't speak, but Lukas knew what he would ask. He would ask if he was alright, and Lukas would give an affirmative answer, coupled with an insult. That's how Berwald would know he was speaking truthfully. But he didn't ask, he just watched him for a moment and continued on, leaving him in peace.

If it could be called that, he scoffed silently.

With a deeper, heavier breath Lukas let his head fall a bit and stared into the blue-grey water that churned irately just off deck. Above him, thinly stretched clouds, nearly the same dull color as the sea, hung silently in the sky, as if to balance against the noisy waters below. Lukas liked how everything seemed to have balance at sea, but after a moment he felt as though this balance was becoming rather intense. He found himself likening the strange feeling of the worlds above and below him reflecting each other to the feeling of being caught in the center of an hourglass. Surrounded by endless motion, though able to maintain balance.

He shook his head hard to rid his mind of such a weird thought. His brain seemed to resort disturbing, poetic similes when he was stressed.

After a moment of fixing his eyes on a particular part of the boat to steady himself, he felt the rocking and the sounds of the waves lulling him once again, and his thoughts began to wander. Annoyingly, they didn't have far to wander before they centered on something very specific.

Mathias. Damn him.

He knew Mathias saw the effects Berwald still had on him, and he knew that drove him to try harder to have the same influence, but Lukas had to give his consent for such a thing to happen. Until Mathias realized that, he was determined not to let him have the slightest bit of control over his actions. His thoughts were a different matter entirely, but Mathias couldn't see those nor could Lukas stop them, so he now allowed himself to consider them.

Still, he knew the more he resisted the Dane's advances the more elaborate and obvious they would become, but he tried not to care. He could ignore anything he wanted to, even Mathias. Lukas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. God, if he hadn't been so stupid, if he just hadn't kissed him, this wouldn't be happening. Mathias wouldn't be striving to get reactions out of him and he wouldn't be so stressed about it. It had been such an idiotic thing to do. Still, in utter spite of himself, he felt his fingers drop from between his eyes to his lips. Secretly, he thought that if that damned kiss had been any better, he might have just declared all of this trouble worth it. Might have. Just maybe.

* * *

_Mathias_

The cold of the North Sea whipped passed him harshly, but it felt good. Exciting, even. When he finally plucked a breath from the wild, swirling wind, he forced his eyes opened wide, despite their immediate want to squint instead. He was exhilarated, just from the waves, just from the wind.

The sun was dipping low, seeming just a bit smaller now. Maybe it was all in his head, but he remembered how dark Iceland could get. For now though, there was a bright array of colors thrown haphazardly across the sky and the waves. Others might have thought it to look gentle and calming, but watching the way the break of the waves caught fire in the orange light…he just wanted to go faster.

Tino suddenly appeared at his elbow, beaming from just above a lightly colored scarf. His hair seemed to catch fire, too. Mathias looked down at him before throwing his arm around the short Finn and yanking him close.

"It's beautiful," Tino told him in a voice that would have been a whisper if he could have heard it over the wind.

Mathias grinned. Watching the sunset with little Tino. He was someone who would think of it as gentle and calming. Mathias was watching the North Sea burn, and he laughed loudly as the wind snatched the sound away.

When the sun finally dipped low enough that the fires began to go out, Mathias let out his breath as his heart rate began to slow; it was over too soon, it always was. The wind was still as wild, but felt a bit colder now that the sea once again looked like, well, water. He sniffed and turned around, hooking his arms behind the railing as he leaned against it.

"What's the matter?" Tino asked him.

It wasn't a sudden question, but he hadn't been expecting it, and therefore made it feel sudden.

He blinked stupidly before realizing that he had been frowning. "Huh? Oh. I don't like night at sea. It makes ya think."

Tino leaned his side against the railing with a smile that could be described as dreamy. "What are you thinking about?"

Mathias opened his mouth to make up something about how he used to sail with his brothers and his grandpa, but then closed it. Tino always seemed to be able to catch him in his habitual lies. So instead he looked down, feeling rather bashful to actually get to say it.

"Lukas," he mumbled sheepishly.

Tino probably only understood the softly spoken word because it was the answer he had been expecting, and he nodded with an enduring smile. "Ah. What about him?"

That smile seemed nearly smug now, though.

Mathias took a deep breath, tilting his head back a bit. "He hates me."

Tino giggled. "He doesn't hate you."

"Yes, he does,"

"No, he doesn't."

Mathias raised his eyebrows at him, unconvinced.

"He's probably just adjusting; I'm sure he'll come around once we're settled." Tino assured him.

The wind was quieter for a moment as they were silent, and then Mathias became aware that he could hear the quiet sound of someone else's voice, and looked around. Tino's eyes followed, and they both spotted Ludwig and Berwald standing a ways away; the shorter German appearing to scold the Swede as he unwrapped the scarf around his neck and retied it much neater. Berwald's blush was visible even from where Mathias and Tino were standing.

Mathias wanted to shout at them, maybe tell them to get a room; it would definitely make Berwald redder. But, Tino gave that before-speaking breath, and he looked at him instead.

"You want to be affectionate with Lukas?" it wasn't a question.

Still, he nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

"…Maybe you should wait for him to make a move," Tino offered with a gentle but enthusiastic smile.

Mathias blinked in surprise, and then he turned around and dropped his body on the railing. "I'll die before he does,"

Tino laughed again, which made him smile even though he didn't want to. He wanted to whine about how it wasn't fair, but the short man at his side made him grin.

"Just try it, couldn't make your situation any worse, right?" he winked.

"…That's mean," Mathias frowned as Tino walked away, possibly giggling again.

When Tino had gone, he stared back out at the darkening sea. He could try waiting. Being patient was not something he did often tried willingly, but Lukas just might respond to something like that. Come to think of it, Berwald was pretty damn patient…

* * *

_Ludwig_

Only the brightest stars shone through the thin veil of clouds and after a while Ludwig's neck grew tired, and he turned his gaze down into the inky waters below. He wasn't sure how the others slept so peacefully at sea. They all had been crammed together side by side in a tiny sleeping hold, which had made escape nearly impossible. Yet, somehow everyone had fallen asleep quickly and deeply, and he had even accidently stepped on Mathias and the Dane hadn't woken up. Scandinavians.

As he stared down over the side of the boat, he felt the cold slithering into his clothes. Absently, he wondered if his chilled flesh pressed up against Berwald's back would be enough to wake him up. It hadn't woken up the soldiers he used to sleep beside, when he left and returned the same temperature as the winter wind, but with a strange feeling he reminded himself that he was not sleeping beside soldiers any longer. _He_ was not a soldier any longer.

Despite everything, every reason he might have had to feel glad or relieved, he only felt wretched. He was supposed to be a soldier. He was supposed to be fighting. Ludwig covered his eyes, frowning as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He wasn't supposed to be here.

It all had just gone so wrong so quickly. With a shaky breath he realized that if he hadn't jumped, if he had stayed and been obedient like how he had been taught to be his entire life, he would be dead, or worse. He didn't know what had been said about him, he didn't know why, but in those few moments he wondered if it was really better to have escaped. He would always be a soldier who deserted, but it was more than that. He turned his back on his home, his history, and his family. His last name was no longer his to carry, along with anything else he had with him when he had escaped the train. The symbol upon his jacket…

After seeing England, after witnessing the horror of the bombings, and even after hearing of things he knew had been purposefully kept from him, the thought that he turned his back on the country he swore to fight for still made him sick. It all felt wrong. It would have been wrong to stay, but it was also wrong to leave. There was no lesser evil.

Suddenly, he didn't want to see Iceland. He didn't want to go back to England, either. Ludwig wasn't even sure he could have handled going back to Sweden. There was no escape from this war. Not anywhere. He couldn't believe that was something he was only understanding now, but then he realized that up until this year,_he_ had been the war. He was the soldier that had marched forward, carrying a symbol that he could no longer name nor describe because he didn't know what it was any longer. A symbol of hope and pride that had turned to one of terror and hatred.

Ludwig briefly considered hopping the railing; he was certain his sins would be heavy enough to drag him to the bottom. But, the moment passed, and the cold was too intense now, and perhaps he even felt tired. So, he headed back down to where five men and a dog were stashed, sleeping side by side. As he removed his boots, jacket, and scarf his eyes fell over what he could see of each of their faces.

They didn't hate him. Even Lukas and Emil seemed to like him in their own ways. A strange feeling washed over him as he realized that if he had jumped, they would have turned the damned boat around and would have searched for him, even though their path was dangerous enough as it was. The feeling seemed to tighten around his chest and his eyes fell to Berwald. He wouldn't have stopped searching for him, even when there would be no chance of survival, he wouldn't give up.

Some form of shame pressed down on him, and he swallowed hard as he quietly moved back to his place between Mathias and Berwald. They both shifted, but not enough to signal that they were conscious. Ludwig scooted as close as he physically could to the Swede, pressing his forehead between his shoulder blades. The small dog, Hana, awoke at that, however, and as Ludwig settled down, she practically crawled over Berwald's face in order to curl up beside his shoulder. Another night, he might have laughed, but he just petted the tiny creature before closing his eyes. Before he fell back asleep, however, he felt Berwald's hand come to take his.

* * *

_Berwald_

His dream was of _that_ night. Of the blood, and the fear. God, it had all happened so fast. But in his dream, it was slow. Nightmarishly slow. It forced him to meet each of their eyes. He remembered the colors.

It seemed to last all night and when he finally awoke, covered in a cold, sickly sweat. Berwald sat up and rubbed his face, trying to regain control over his breathing and counting backwards in Swedish. When he opened his eyes, he saw mostly just blurs of color, but it was enough to suggest that it was nearly time for the sun to rise. Tired and still on edge from his dreams, he rolled over and tried to force himself to fall back asleep. The attempt was futile, but he was tired, and didn't want to go wander around this early in the morning.

His head was still full of violent images, and every time he closed his eyes he was reminded of those men he had killed. He could see feel the fear, that horrifying terror that drove him to fire at the first man. It had almost seemed easier after that. Berwald's body gave a sick shutter and he forced himself to hold his eyes open.

As the pale light began to illuminate their small sleeping quarters, however, he found himself confronted with a surprisingly different image. Ludwig was curled up with Hana, and both of them had their mouths opened just enough for Berwald to see their pink tongues. They both looked so calm.

He tucked his arm beneath his head after putting on his glasses, forgetting sleep almost entirely.

Dawn breaking at sea was always a magnificent sight, and was something that had always comforted Berwald somehow, but it didn't compare to this. It didn't compare to the way Ludwig's blond hair was messily strewn across his forehead and the pillow while Hana's ears seemed to flop over as if to mimic a sleepy hairstyle. Their soft breathing, the way Ludwig's brow was smooth and relaxed, the adorable way both of their noses occasionally twitched, any single aspect of this moment was more precious to Berwald than seeing a sunrise, no matter how stunning. Sleeping Ludwig was one of his favorite things. Sleeping Hana was now a close second.

After a while of watching, however, Berwald was able to see that Ludwig was starting to frown a bit. He didn't grumble or shift or give any other indication that he was dreaming darkly, but he had been a soldier, and Berwald knew it made sleeping soundly more difficult. Unsure of how best to comfort him, he was intending to reach over and perhaps touch his arm or shoulder. But to his surprise, the moment he raised his hand, Ludwig's own captured it and held it securely against his chest. Berwald held completely still, but was able to see the crease of his brow relax again when he didn't pull away.

Slowly, Berwald began to smile, and after a little while of being gently rocked by the waves and being able to feel Ludwig's slow heartbeat, he found himself dozing off again. Maybe Iceland wouldn't be so bad this time.

* * *

Once awakened, and after they had all eaten breakfast, everyone separated. But, they each found themselves returning one by one, as if unconsciously seeking out each other's company. They sat together and joked and talked, and for those short few days before they reached Iceland, they each found themselves feeling as though the war was a world away.


	26. Chapter 26

He had to admit, given the name and the time of year, Iceland was a lot greener than he had expected. They landed in the capitol city of Reykjavík, and from the moment they landed, Ludwig couldn't relax. There were soldiers _everywhere_. They weren't British, as Emil had mentioned, and were instead United States Marines, which had been sent to occupy Iceland in Britain's place, but since the United States had joined the Allies, the Marines had been called into action and more standard soldiers were coming in to take their place one section at a time. Although Ludwig no long wore his uniform, or anything that would have identified him as a German, he felt as though it was obvious to everyone who looked at him, especially the way some of the soldiers just stared. Thankfully, Emil seemed eager to get on the move as soon as they had eaten, and the young Icelander arranged a car for them seemingly without any effort at all. As they loaded it up, however, Ludwig found he kept tilting back and forth, and realized his body still thought he was on the boat. That was rather annoying.

They all climbed in the car in what was a now practiced order, but they didn't leave Reykjavík immediately. Emil quietly told Berwald that he first had to speak to someone, and directed him to the northern part of the town. When they stopped in front of an inconspicuous home, Emil bossily ordered everyone to stay in the car, and went to the door alone. Even Tino rolled his eyes. Emil disappeared inside the house for at least ten minutes before he returned and got back in the car. He nodded to Berwald without saying anything more, but Ludwig saw him holding a ring of keys.

After that, the drive became strangely dreamlike, and it took Ludwig much longer than it should have for him to realize that he was occasionally dozing. Once, when they hit a bump hard enough so that his and Mathias' foreheads knocked together with enough force to wake them both up, he remembered looking out the window and seeing endless, flat fields of grass, only stopped by a distant wall of dark mountains. The sky was persistently grey with only brief hints of something more colorful, and after a few more hours and a few more naps, they arrived at a building that had seemed to have risen up suddenly.

The house was as uninteresting as the rest of the land, but somehow he found that was almost comforting. They unpacked the car and Emil headed to the front door with his ring of keys. It seemed to have been well maintained, and suggested someone else might have actually been there before them. Ludwig wondered if that might have been why Emil had waited to bring them here. The house had two stories, but was fairly low to the ground. Inside, there was a small kitchen that led to an equally small dining room, but passed that there was a living room that felt about the same size as the previous one. On the second floor there were four bedrooms, two of which held beds large enough for two, one of which contained two separate beds, and the room at the beginning of the hallway held only a bed for one.

Their rooms were decided when Berwald and Mathias both stepped forward, eyed each other, and each tossed their bags in the rooms they chose. Naturally, this chose rooms for Lukas and Ludwig, and left Emil and Tino to awkwardly go and set their bags down as well. Tino took the room with a second bed, and Emil took the room with only one. After that was finished, they all headed back downstairs and looked around again before separating to test out the couch and various chairs, as well as explore the kitchen and the back of the house.

Ludwig trailed behind Berwald for a bit as he went into the kitchen, but remained inside when he headed out. When he headed back to the living room, he found Mathias obnoxiously sprawled out on the couch, and immediately went to plop down beside him. He was received with enthusiasm. The Dane cheered and threw his arm around him, yanking him roughly until they were both slouching low, Mathias trying to rest his feet on the table, which was just out of his reach. Lukas was already almost upside down in one of the chairs, and when he saw Mathias trying to stretch for the table, he reached out and got a hold of the rug the table was on, and tugged it towards him, pulling it even farther from Mathias' feet. Mathias frowned and Ludwig and Lukas snickered.

"No feet on the table." Lukas told him authoritatively, immediately losing his smile to speak, but then laughing again when the Dane swore.

Mathias stretched his legs out pointlessly farther, leaning until the only parts of his body on the couch were his elbows. Lukas then pushed the rug, which put the table close enough for him to hook the heels of his boots on. Ludwig began to grin, already able to see what Lukas intended to do, but also able to see that Mathias had no idea what was coming next. He was like that though. It reminded him of his brother.

"I said," Lukas muttered in a low voice. "No feet on the table."

With a sharp yank the Norwegian pulled the table out from under his feet, dragging him far enough forward that he slipped off the couch and the table simultaneously, and he hit the floor with a loud thump.

"Ow!" he yowled from the floor dramatically.

Ludwig laughed while Lukas grinned smugly down at him, releasing the rug and sitting back in the chair.

"They seem to be settling in just fine," Tino suddenly said, giggling from the doorway as he looked at Mathias, but he was speaking to Emil.

Emil grumbled unintelligibly from somewhere in the kitchen.

The dark came on faster in Iceland, and the days weren't very bright, even when the sky was clear, which was rare. Slowly, it began to take a toll on Ludwig's mind, even worse than England had. He thought more of his brother and his grandfather, and found it harder to stop. Slowly, he could feel himself laughing less, and wanting to be around the others less because he felt strange not being able to laugh with them.

Berwald noticed the change almost immediately, and made every effort to cheer him up. Ludwig could usually only offer a sad smile, but he usually rejected his offer to talk. What was there to say, anyway? It was nothing new. The homesickness certainly wasn't new, the feeling of guilt wasn't new, and they wouldn't go away, so he felt there was no sense in talking about any of it now. It was done, he was a traitor by all accounts, and he had failed his grandfather. What was there to say?

Still, Berwald held him closer at night. Sometimes, though, Ludwig would wait for him to fall asleep, and then pull away to sleep closer to the edge of the bed. He feared his feelings would somehow infect Berwald, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to be sad because of him. He could deal with this on his own, it would just take time.

Each week came slower than the last, but with a strange jolt Ludwig realized that four weeks had passed since they had arrived on Iceland. It was getting harder to get out of bed, and to eat. Tino would sometimes bring food to him in his room where he pretended to read but instead just stared at the pages unseeingly, and he always thanked him, but he never finished it. It felt as though even hot food turned cold before it reached his stomach. He checked his temperature and pulse occasionally, but other than the fact he was losing a bit of weight, his physical condition seemed fine.

Still, the days were colored with a heavy sense of fatigue, and at night he lied awake for hours, unable to fall asleep despite his exhaustion. This made the long nights feel even longer. As the weeks had progressed, every time Ludwig turned down Berwald's offer to talk or to go out and do something together, he noticed it would take him longer to ask again, until, on the fourth week, they hardly spoke at all. He still tried to hold him at night, and would run his fingers along the back of his hand if it came within his reach, but Ludwig couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the actions. He knew it would be possible for Berwald to get the wrong idea about how he was feeling, but he convinced himself that he would be better soon, and then he could explain the situation to him clearly.

That time always felt another week away, however.

Then, one night while he was sitting on the couch with Mathias thinking about heading upstairs to be alone, the Dane began talking to him. He wasn't even looking at him, and was instead focusing on the wall across from them as though he was seeing the setting for his story, but even when Ludwig tried to shift like he was going to get up to leave, Mathias just kept talking. He told him a story about his brothers, when they all went on a boat with their father, and when Ludwig realized he wasn't going to be able to escape without either offending Mathias or being relentlessly pursued, he sighed and forced himself to pay attention.

For some reason, although a story about family and home should have made him feel worse, by the time it was over, he was laughing. Every time Mathias told him about how one of his brothers went toppling off the boat he was able to imagine it perfectly. After all, the image of a sibling angrily glaring up from the surface of the water was a reminder of countless summers. Unlike the others, with the exception Tino, although he almost never spoke of it, Mathias knew what it was like to have brothers, and although Ludwig only had one, it was something that seemed to connect them more than he had expected. They both understood a relationship that was practically out of their own control, and knew the kind of love that encouraged fist fights to go alongside respect and the utmost loyalty.

Absently, he thought about how much Mathias reminded him of his brother, but in his own way, Mathias was just characteristically brotherly. In essence, Ludwig thought that he could easily find a reason to punch Mathias, but if anyone else punched him, he would knock them out. Ludwig began to smile at the obnoxious Dane. His grandfather had once told him that blood was important, but it wasn't the utmost important. Maybe this was what he had meant.

The rest of the evening was spent exchanging stupid stories of getting into trouble and finding countless, futile ways to try to escape punishment, and when it was time for dinner, he caught a glimpse of Lukas smiling at them affectionately. It made him wonder if Mathias had unintentionally forced him to listen to his stories. After all, Mathias was so unobservant that sometimes Ludwig wondered if he would notice if he went blind, but Lukas noticed an awful lot. It wouldn't surprise him if Lukas' way of making sure people were taken care of was through others.

At dinner that night, Ludwig was able to eat everything on his plate.


	27. Chapter 27

They had spent over a month in Iceland, and in all honestly it wasn't as bad as Lukas remembered. Then again, they did have more people, and a small dog, which made things slightly more interesting. Yet, when it became obvious that something was wrong with Ludwig and Berwald started making that helpless face he hated, it wasn't Lukas who did anything. It was Mathias. Not only did he try to do something to help the newest member of their group, he succeeded. Ludwig, who seemed like he hadn't smiled nor eaten a full meal in days, was suddenly laughing as Mathias joked and told him stupid stories. That struck Lukas.

After that, Emil seemed to fall into a foul mood as well, and Lukas later learned that he had lost contact with a friend he had made in England whom he hadn't told anyone about, but again Mathias came to the rescue. He took Tino to town just for something to do and one day they returned with a soccer ball, and the two of them moved the furniture and played in the living room until Lukas ordered them outside.

As he watched them play from the window Tino popped up beside him and cooed happily at how sweet it was to see them playing together. After a minute however, Tino quietly sighed.

"He's been coming in to sleep in my room," Tino informed him in a low voice.

Lukas' eyebrows twitched a bit, and he glanced at him sideways. "He has?"

Tino could see him nod a bit. "Coming to sleep in that second bed. I think he gets lonely, not that he'd ever say so,"

He pursed his lips silently. Emil and Tino had a good relation, but they still had to separate sometimes. Even so, Lukas knew that underneath it all, Emil hated being away from people he trusted enough to feel comfortable with. Spending the day apart was one thing, but sleeping alone every night was another. He hadn't even thought about it.

Later that day, Lukas heard some commotion upstairs, and when he went to investigate, he saw that Mathias had pushed the beds in Tino's room together. No one spoke, but Tino and Mathias both smiled a little.

A few days later, Mathias' strange behavior intensified when he poked his head in the kitchen, asking for Berwald. That in itself wasn't strange, but the tone caught Lukas' attention. It was a meek tone. Mathias would never meekly seek out Berwald. When Lukas pushed him for why he was looking for him, he showed him the small toy puffin that Emil slept with. It was an old plush toy, and there were places where it was tearing and wearing out. In his other hand Mathias held a needle and some thread in a way that suggested he had never held sewing supplies before. Lukas nodded once and took him to find Berwald.

The Swede was outside looking grim, probably thinking about Ludwig who remained persistently unhappy lately, but Lukas was silent as they approached. Mathias offered the small toy to him in the shyest way he had ever seen from the Dane. It seemed to catch Berwald off guard too, but he nodded and they all went inside so he could mend Emil's puffin. Lukas knew that Emil was embarrassed by the fact that he still slept with a stuffed animal, and he hadn't wanted the others to know, but he also knew that the Icelander would appreciate the kind gesture when he was finished being upset about Mathias getting into his things.

Lukas stared wonderingly at Mathias while Berwald worked. What had gotten into him?

Mathias still tended to annoy Lukas, but the amount of times he had to tell him to leave him alone had significantly reduced. He began to knock before he came bursting into their shared room as well, and slowly, Lukas felt his desire to hit him and call him names lessen a bit. He still occasionally took a swing at him and Mathias _was_ an idiot, but, something had changed.

Finally, one evening while they were sitting alone in the living room, Lukas gathered himself up, got out of the chair, and marched over to the couch. Mathias looked up from where he was sitting and smiled stupidly but didn't do anything. So, Lukas sat down next to him. Mathias seemed to be fighting himself to want to hug Lukas, but he was aware that the Dane knew that if he did so Lukas would leave again. Instead, Mathias just moved over a bit to give him more room.

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Mathias inquired about Emil. It was a gentle, casual inquiry, but Lukas looked at him for a long moment before answering honestly. Emil he been sleeping with his and Tino's beds close together now, and his stuffed Puffin was fixed. He was doing better. Mathias grinned happily to hear that, and Lukas felt himself smiling a bit, too.

The Dane then began to ramble about how his oldest brother always did the sewing for them, and that he could never get the string through the loop in the needle anyway, and that's the only reason he asked Berwald to sew the puffin for Emil, but when he trailed off Lukas looked at him.

"Thank you." he said simply.

Mathias paused, his eye wide and his mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. Then, he grinned widely.

"It wasn't a problem," he beamed.

Lukas began to smile back, and then shoved him a bit and leaned against his shoulder. "Idiot."

Mathias laughed a little, but then he heard him swallow, as if concentrating. After a few seconds, Lukas felt his arm raise and then drape around his shoulders cautiously. It wasn't like the normal, rough hug that Mathias had trademarked, and when Lukas didn't pull away, he found the warmth of his heavy arm to be less unbearable than normal.

They talked on the couch until Lukas got up to make dinner, and even then, Mathias gingerly trailed after him. He talked to him while he cooked, moving constantly from the table to the counter to the doorway, but was always careful to stay out of his way. Just before dinner was finished, however, Lukas felt Mathias' arms wrap around him, and he was pulled into a tight hug from behind.

"Sorry, I just really wanted a hug," he muttered, stubbornly clinging to him for a moment.

Lukas tried to sound and look annoyed, but the hug was shorter than he had expected, and after a tense moment of Mathias waiting to see if he was mad, Lukas bid him to taste what he was cooking. He had only ever done such a thing with Berwald, and it felt a little strange, though he tried to tell himself that it was all in his head.

"Mmm," he hummed as the Norwegian fed him from the large spoon.

Lukas smiled and rolled his eyes at his exaggerated volume. "Does it need more salt?"

Mathias looked at him and then at the salt, and then licked his lips. "Uh, I think, it's actually good on salt,"

His hesitance was new. Normally he would whine about how salty it was, or how there was too much butter, and Lukas would firmly tell him that no recipe ever called for enough of either, but the furthest Mathias went was teasingly pulling the salt out of his reach. Lukas smiled wider before he could stop himself.

After that, it became part of their routine for Lukas to spend almost every evening on the couch beside Mathias. He usually ended up just listening to him talk, since anytime he brought a book to read the Dane whined until he got his attention. In return, however, Mathias often set a pillow on his lap for Lukas to lie on, and it was one of these times that, while the taller man rambled on about fishing, he dozed off for a bit. When he realized he had fallen asleep, he tried to wake up quickly, but then he felt a warm hand gently brush his hair to the side of his face and everything seemed to stop, even his mind.

Mathias' hand felt nice. His hands were large and heavy, but when he was being gentle, they felt rather pleasant. He appeared not to realize that Lukas had woken up slightly, and continued to softly trace the edge of his face with his fingertips, sending occasional chills through Lukas' body. The touches were tender and smooth, and after a few minutes Lukas felt himself being lulled back to sleep.

Before he could fully lose consciousness again, however, his ears picked up the unfamiliar sound of Mathias whispering. What he heard nearly stopped his heart.

"What if I asked you to run away with me, Luke?" his voice was low and soft, filled with a strange sense of longing and tenderness. "Would you say yes? Would you come with me?"

He shifted a little on his lap to hide the way his throat constricted, and for a moment he feared that Mathias had realized he was awake, but the tall Dane only let out a heavy sigh and suddenly scooped him up, carrying him up to bed without a word more. Mathias settled him down into the bed as though he weighed no more than a child, and then lied beside him. It only took a few minutes before he was breathing softly.

As soon as Lukas was certain he was asleep, he rolled over and stared at his face. It was calm, childishly calm, and innocent.

"Don't ask me that," Lukas whispered against the fabric of the pillow as his eyes traced the lines of his face. "Please, don't ask me."

Swallowing hard, he rolled over to his other side and faced the wall. If Mathias asked him, he knew what he would have to say, and it wouldn't the answer he wanted to hear.

Before he could try to clear his mind to sleep, he felt one last surprise from the Dane. His hand, his warm, gentle hand, was blindly reaching for Lukas'. He let Mathias find it, and their fingers curled together loosely, his thumb occasionally running over the back of Lukas' hand slowly.

Idiot, he thought. But, it was only half-hearted.


	28. Chapter 28

Most mornings started with silence. Ludwig was still an early riser, as always, though he didn't get up as early as he used to. Still, more often than not Berwald awoke to an empty bed, Ludwig's side already partially made. Then, during the day when Berwald would try to reach out to touch him, Ludwig either pulled away from him completely or simply held still until he stopped. Sometimes they went entire days without even making eye contact. His heart felt weak and heavy in his chest.

To add to it, Ludwig did smile, but not at him. It was always because of fucking Mathias. He told funny stories and stupid jokes that seemed to somehow reach Ludwig, and they often spent time together during the day. Berwald would sometimes watch from a distance until he couldn't take it anymore, and then he would sulk upstairs and sometimes try to go to bed even before dinner. It wasn't just that Ludwig wasn't happy anymore; it was that no matter what he did, he couldn't make him happy.

Aside from that, though not completely unrelated, Mathias and Lukas were finally getting cozy with each other. Frequently in the evenings they could be found together on the couch, Lukas usually lying across Mathias' lap talking and laughing for hours. Berwald had always known that Mathias had changed the relationship between Lukas and him because Lukas had fallen for the stupid, arrogant Dane; it was Lukas whohadn't known right away. Still, it turned out to be rather hard for Berwald to watch, and if he walked into a room that held only Mathias and Lukas, he was quick to leave.

Once, he came into the living room and found Lukas, Mathias, and Ludwig all sitting together, smiling while Mathias told a colorful story about when he lived in Denmark. As soon as he entered, though, the room fell silent. Mathias grinned and invited him in to hear the story, but he had seen the way both Lukas and Ludwig lost their smiles almost immediately, and avoided his gaze. He just sort of grunted and left the room.

What had happened? Had he done something wrong?

Perhaps he was over reacting, but it was hard to see the two people he cared about most not wanting to speak to him anymore. It was harder still to see that Mathias could make any of them smile seemingly without effort. Berwald's affections didn't know restraint, so despite Ludwig and Lukas' apparent disinclination towards his presence, he torturously tried to console himself with the knowledge that at least someone in the household could make them both happy. Even if that someone was Mathias Densen.

Why did it have to be Mathias?

One night, when he was in a particularly bad mood after Ludwig had blatantly gotten up and left the room they shared when Berwald had entered, he happened to spot Mathias and Lukas outside. The Norwegian often liked to attempt to catch glimpses of the Northern Lights, which were sometimes visible if there wasn't very much cloud cover, and lately Mathias always went with him. Berwald somehow managed to glance out the window just in time to see them both lean in, and press their lips together.

Berwald felt his mouth open slightly in surprise, and he quickly moved away from the window. He clenched his fist as a strong wave of unjustified emotion passed over him, despite his internal argument that Lukas had the right to kiss whomever he wished, and that he had always known this would happen. He was honestly surprised it hadn't happened sooner. It would have been better if it had happened sooner.

"Ber?" a soft voice got his attention.

Tino was standing in the doorway, looking at him with concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked when Berwald just stared at him.

He hesitated, but then nodded with a heavy breath, his eyes falling to the floor before he forced them back up again.

The short Finn shifted awkwardly on his feet before he leaned on the doorframe, his small hand pressed flat against the wood. "If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here, too,"

Berwald stared at him again; the last word had been added unnecessarily. For a moment, he considered telling him what had been happening, but, no. Tino got along with Mathias better, too. Besides, he had never been like that with Tino; he never really could express his problems or his feelings. Something about Tino just seemed to leave him tongue-tied.

"It's alright," he muttered quietly after a moment, his head bowing slightly.

Tino offered him a sad smile, though Berwald doubted if he had really expected Berwald to say anything else, and then gently squeezed the doorframe with his small hand as one would the arm of a friend who needed comfort, and then he left.

Within a few seconds, Berwald's mind had returned to Lukas and Mathias, and he sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed his face, moving his glasses out of the way. He couldn't help but feel concerned for Lukas, in spite of everything. Mathias was wild and careless; it would be like playing with fire…

After a moment of willing himself up, he decided to go to the kitchen to get some water. He had nearly done so without incident, but before he headed back upstairs, the door opened, and Lukas and Mathias entered. Unable to get to the staircase without passing them, Berwald simply remained in the kitchen, feeling trapped. It was a stupid thought because he could very easily walk passed them, but a strange, irrational fear that grew in his mind rooted him in place. He didn't want to see either of them, and honestly, they probably didn't want to see him either.

But, of course, as if he had somehow subconsciously been sensed, Mathias instructed Lukas to head upstairs, and that he was going to get a drink before following him. Lukas rolled his eyes almost audibly at Mathias' attempts to issue orders, but Berwald heard light, Norwegian feet on the stairs, and large, Danish boots heading towards him. In his mind, Berwald ran through every curse in every language he knew. It still wasn't enough.

As Mathias entered the small kitchen, he seemed surprised to see Berwald there, but not surprised enough to lose that stupidly large grin.

"Hi-ya Ber," he greeted him with too much enthusiasm as he went about getting something to drink.

He grunted a bit, a strange, sickly feeling of anger beginning to boil beneath his skin.

Mathias didn't notice right away, and it wasn't until he had taken a long gulp and wiped his mouth crudely that he frowned a bit.

"Somethin' the matter?" he asked in Swedish, though the question sounded more like curiosity rather than concern.

Unsure of what else to do, he simply stared. Some people were frightened by him when his stare got intense, but Mathias wasn't afraid of anything. Even things he ought to be afraid of.

The Dane swelled up his chest and took a bold step forward, seeing his intensity as some kind of challenge. "Is there something bothering you, Berwald?"

His fists wanted to clench, and he wanted to let them. He wanted to punch Mathias so hard he forgot his name. But, that would only make things worse. It could very well make Lukas and Ludwig even more upset with him than they already seemed to be. Still, Mathias just knew how to get under his skin.

The Dane cocked his head to the side, already too close to Berwald's face, but as soon as his mouth opened, Berwald felt his body move. He caught Mathias hard by the arm and yanked him in closer, leaning over him a bit so that their faces were now way too close. His actions caught Mathias off-guard, and his eyes widened as they stared at each other.

"Be good to him. If you hurt Lukas," the words were coming out before he could stop them. "I will kill you."

He released him harshly, forcing Mathias back a step, and although his mouth was opened, he didn't respond. Berwald stared him down for only a second longer before he left the kitchen and went upstairs to his room. The door to Lukas and Mathias' room was opened, and he was left to wonder if Lukas had heard him. He wondered what he would think.

However, Lukas hadn't been the only one listening, and just outside the door that led from the kitchen to the yard behind the house, someone else stood frozen in shock.

Later that night, when Ludwig reappeared in time for bed, Berwald tried twice to touch his hand as they both lied down, but the German rejected him, scooted to the far edge of the bed, leaving nearly a foot of empty space between them. He wanted to say something, but what could he say? Maybe that he was sorry. He was sorry that he couldn't make him happy. He really was.

* * *

God damnit.

God _fucking_ damnit.

He wanted to blame Tino. As he woke up, he honestly wanted to blame the Finn for this. After all, it had been his idea to drink in the first place, and he had been the one who had gone with Mathias to pick up alcohol for all of them. They had gotten way too much. But, no. It wasn't really Tino's fault. Still, as Berwald sat up in bed, completely naked and beside an equally naked Lukas in the wrong bedroom, he just really wanted to someone to blame.

A few nights after the night he threatened Mathias, Tino had suggested they drink to celebrate something that Berwald couldn't even remember now. They had all gotten so drunk Berwald doubted if they would be willing to drink again within the year. He couldn't remember anything coherent and his head hurt so badly he had half a mind to slam it against the wall in an attempt to knock himself out.

As he gathered himself up and reached for his glasses, Lukas stirred beside him with a small stretch and a few soft noises.

"Mm, hmm?" he blinked a few times as Berwald looked down at him, and then his eyes focused and his face fell. "…Ber?"

He realized it had been pointless to put on his glasses as he removed them to rub his face. "Yeah."

"We're naked." he muttered, lifting up the sheets just to make sure.

Berwald frowned in annoyance, but he knew that Lukas was just coming to terms with the unforgivable act they had apparently committed. Berwald honestly couldn't remember much more than watching Mathias fall out of his chair sometime during the night, and he almost couldn't believe that he had done such a thing, but, the evidence was all there.

"Fuck," Lukas sat up too, his hand over his mouth.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway and they both looked at each other as the dread seized them. Lukas looked honestly afraid. They had both fucked up; there was no justification for what they had done. They had no right to even begin to ask for forgiveness.

The door swung open and a disheveled Mathias appeared. His mouth fell open although he seemed to have had a rather concerned expression beforehand; his fears had been confirmed. The Dane cringed visibly and his hand twitched as though it wanted to lift to his mouth, or maybe his chest.

"Luke?" he asked in a strangled whisper.

Lukas looked down in an utterly shameful manner that Berwald had never seen before, and then realized he was the cause of. God, this felt like a nightmare.

It only got worse.

An equally bedraggled Ludwig suddenly stepped up beside Mathias, peering into the room as well. As soon as he had observed the situation, his eyes met Berwald's, and the sound of hearts breaking was almost audible.

"Berwald?" Ludwig's voice wasn't gentle, but it was quiet.

It was as if he was asking for confirmation for what he was seeing. Berwald bowed his head, and nodded once.

"What the fuck?" Mathias suddenly roared, his voice high and his face red, the volume making them all cringe.

Lukas didn't look at him, he simply pulled himself close. When Berwald willed himself to look up at Ludwig again, the expression of anger and disgust cut him deeply, but it still didn't hurt as much as when he simply turned around and walked away. Mathias glanced after him and swallowed hard.

"Lukas, you," his voice was weak and broken, but there was something tense behind it. "You said…"

Lukas squeezed himself tighter, and it was apparent he wouldn't speak to him.

That was when he burst.

The Dane's voice echoed through the house, making Berwald's head throb horribly, and making his chest tighten with guilt. He screamed at him a little, but then his focus shifted and he shouted at Lukas. It wasn't childish name calling; it was full-blown rage. He threw everything he had at him, but Berwald got up to silence him after he called Lukas easy.

Berwald got up, managed to quickly get his pants on, and then walked over to Mathias, putting up his hands to push him out.

"Fuck you!" Mathias snarled at him, shoving him back harshly. "This is your fault! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Berwald couldn't respond, but after Mathias shoved him, he saw something switch in his eyes that barely gave him enough time to dodge a deadly hook to the side of his head. He swung again though, and Berwald took most of it in the ribs, making him step back. He wanted to fight back, but he didn't feel he could. For all he knew, it really was his fault.

When Mathias jumped on him, that thought had sapped his will to fight entirely, and so he let himself simply fall to the ground. He took a fist to the side of his face and one to his jaw before Mathias really threw himself into a punch, and he heard his nose crunch sickening. Warm blood seemed to spew everywhere, but Mathias kept swinging, making sure that blood did spew everywhere.

"Stop!" Lukas shrieked suddenly, and then there was a strange and unfamiliar sound. "Stop it!"

They both looked up to see Lukas crying, wrapped in a blanket, his nose and mouth covered by both of his hands as tears sprung from his eyes.

"Luke,"

"Get out! Both of you!" he continued shouting, sobbing harder.

Mathias looked at him desperately, but when he realized there was nothing he could say he glared at Berwald and got off of him, storming out of the room with blood on his knuckles.

The Swede pushed himself up, his head pounding and his nose throbbing so much it hurt to breathe even through his mouth. His glasses were bent, but the lenses seemed unharmed. Blood began to drip down his shirt as he stood.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice muffled by his broken nose.

"Just get out." Lukas told him, still somehow managing to sound cold as tears fell from those strange purple eyes.

Eyes that weren't meant to cry.

Berwald obeyed.

Ludwig wasn't on the upper floor, but Berwald had to stop the blood before he could go after him. On the other hand, bashing his head against the wall was looking to be a pretty attractive option.

God fucking damnit.


	29. Chapter 29

This chapter contains Mathias and Ludwig's perspectives, sorry if that's confusing but they're both short, so I just put them together. Enjoy!

* * *

Mathias:

Mathias walked angrily away from the house, kicking rocks that got in his way up the road, only to reach them and kick them again. He wasn't sure what he thought, but he knew he was upset. Finding Lukas naked in bed with Berwald only a few days after they had their first kiss…Mathias grunted and kicked another rock. It wasn't fair.

Walking calmed him down eventually, and he was then only aware of the pain in his hands. He was certain he had broken Berwald's nose, and maybe messed up his jaw. It hadn't felt like enough; as he probably would have beaten him unconscious, but seeing the way Lukas reacted had made him feel worse than anything Berwald had done. He had made Lukas cry.

Mathias hung his head and sighed. He had never wanted to make him upset. And, he hadn't meant those things he said. Lukas wasn't easy. He knew Lukas and Berwald had a relationship before he had come along, it wasn't like Berwald was a stranger. And, it probably wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been so drunk. He should have kept a closer eye on Lukas. He shouldn't have left him alone, or have let him leave without him.

Lukas didn't drink that much normally…had he trusted Mathias to watch out for him?

Rubbing his face, Mathias groaned. Why was he so stupid? And why did he say those things he didn't mean? He didn't really regret hitting Berwald, but he shouldn't have done it in front of Lukas. He should have left, like Ludwig, so that he could have calmed down. He was such an idiot.

His thoughts continued to loop around the events of the morning until he reached Hvolsvöllur, which was a small town to the northwest. It was where they did most of their shopping, and now, as Mathias wandered around, he found himself pausing outside a small store. In the window were various objects, all hand crafted, but among them he spotted something that gave him an idea. A stupid idea, but it was the best one he had.

He entered the shop smiling for the first time that day. He didn't speak the Icelandic language, but after a moment of enthusiastically pointing at what he wanted, the shopkeeper fetched it for him. It was a really stupid idea, but still, Mathias smiled a little as he left the store and made his way back towards the house.

The walk back didn't seem as long.

* * *

Ludwig:

Ludwig had left before Mathias, but hadn't gone as far. He made his way to the coastline, and stared at the rushing waves. He folded his arms against the cold wind and stared out as far as he could see. There wasn't much, only grey water and sky, but he felt as though he was waiting for something.

After a while of waiting, he sat against a large rock jutting up from the land like exposed bone. He knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting to calm down. But, it was taking a while. He was angry, and he wanted to be angry. It had sounded like Mathias had taken a swing at Berwald, and hell, if he had been there, he might have tried.

That image, that horrid image of Berwald beside Lukas, scratch marks on his bare shoulders, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He had known he hadn't been Berwald's only lover, but, Berwald was the only one he had ever been with. Whether he had been drunk or not, the thought that he had sought someone else out made him feel like he wasn't adequate.

He picked up a rock and threw it, watching where it made a large splash behind the break of a wave.

Ludwig sighed against the wind, and then realized something. If Berwald had sought him out, he would have rejected him. Since Ludwig remembered almost nothing of the previous night, he realized that it was a possibility that Berwald _had_ tried to take him to bed, and Ludwig had pushed him away. He put his hand to his face and sighed. That didn't justify anything, but, it was something to consider.

On the other hand, Ludwig had noticed the tension between Berwald and Mathias growing, and Mathias had become much closer with Lukas. He wouldn't have done it just to anger Mathias, Berwald wasn't that cruel, but it could have had something to do with it. With a feeling similar to guilt, he admitted to himself that he had actually been more receptive to Mathias than he had been to Berwald. He wasn't really sure why, and he had intended to explain everything to Berwald when he had figured it out, he just hadn't planned on this happening first.

After all, it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to spend time with Berwald anymore, he was just worried about his mood being contagious, and Mathias had just seemed too happy to pick up his depression. He hadn't meant to push him so far away, but, Ludwig grimly thought that he might have pushed him into someone else's arms.

Ludwig pressed his knuckles to his lips. He didn't know if he could forgive something like that, especially with Lukas, but, he already knew he couldn't live without Berwald. He had learned that the night he had tried to leave. He just couldn't be without him, but that didn't mean he could be forgiven. Ludwig honestly wasn't sure where that left him, but with a steadying breath through his nose he decided that saying that he just needed time was a mistake he wouldn't make twice. If Berwald came to him, they would talk. No more waiting.

* * *

"Dinner!" Tino called happily, wiping off his hands.

He began getting ready to serve the food he had made, but only one person appeared at the table behind him. Emil stared up at him.

"Oh," Tino said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Emil said, looking away.

It seemed it would just be them for dinner.

"The fucking people we got mixed up with," Emil muttered.

Tino couldn't help but grin. That sounded familiar.


	30. Chapter 30

Lukas had cleaned up and gotten dressed, but he remained almost in the exact same spot he had woken up in. He was mortified with what he had done, and with everything that had happened. He had cried a few times more, despite how he tried not to, but he constantly heard Mathias' painful words stabbing him over and over again, and then the sound of Berwald's nose breaking under his fist. Berwald hadn't hit him back, not once, but the anger on Mathias' face had been close to psychotic. And it was his fault. He was the cause of all of it.

He rolled over and stuffed his face in the pillow again, still sniffling a bit. After everything, after so much patients and careful steps, after their first kiss, Lukas had just thrown away everything that he had with Mathias. The day before he would have scoffed and denied feeling anything much for the annoying Dane, but, who was he lying for? Mathias had captured his attention since the day he had met him. Maybe it was just his nature to fight against his own affections, but, he didn't care now.

He loved Mathias. That was it. He loved him, and he had fucked up. He might never even speak to him again. God, he had been so mad…

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Lukas assumed it to be Tino or Emil, and kept his face buried in the pillow. Neither of them would open the door if he didn't tell them they could, but, the doorknob twisted and the door opened. He jerked up a bit and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened and his throat closed.

It was Mathias.

"Hey Luke," he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other folded behind his back.

He was smiling a bit. Lukas sniffed and sat up, pulling the pillow defensively onto his lap as his legs folded in.

Mathias took it as an indication that he could enter fully, and shut the door behind him. Then, he slowly walked over and stood beside the bed, but didn't sit down.

"Look, I," he rubbed his mouth. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean anything I said,"

Lukas stared up at him, and then stared hard at the far corner of the bed, but didn't say anything.

Mathias took a timid step forward, and then he felt something soft touch his cheek, accompanied with a small kissing sound. He blinked and turned his head, and then realized that he was staring into button eyes.

"I, ah, I got this for you," he said, tilting his head a little and offering him the small, stuffed bunny.

Lukas looked at it. It was pink and fluffy. Slowly, he took it into his hands and held it. Mathias was smiling down at him hopefully, and when he took the soft gift, he sat down on the bed a little ways away from him.

"And, I'm sorry I hit Berwald," he muttered.

He was so stupid. What a stupid thing to do. And to say. He was such an idiot…

Tears were starting to sting his eyes. Still, the stuffed bunny replaced the pillow in his lap. They were silent for a bit longer, and then Mathias sighed like he was going to leave. Lukas' chest tightened so fast he almost lost his breath.

"Stay." he ordered sharply.

Mathias blinked in surprise, and then began to smile a bit.

He kicked his boots off and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing him. Lukas barely waited for him to get situated before he pushed the blankets back and crawled over to him, and sat in his lap. Mathias held very still for a moment, but when he curled up against his chest and shoulder, he smiled and hugged him tightly.

He didn't feel like crying so much anymore. Instead, he pressed harder into the hug and felt Mathias' tall figure wrap him up tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head.

"So, does this mean you aren't mad at me?" Mathias asked quietly.

Lukas wanted to hit him. _He_ should be apologizing, begging for forgiveness. Somehow, Mathias had gotten it flipped.

"You idiot," he murmured, and then tilted his head back and kissed his cheek. "Of course I do,"

Mathias stared with his familiar surprised expression. His eyes wide, his dark eyebrows raised high, his mouth forming the beginning of a question word; Lukas couldn't help it, he had to kiss him.

He reached forward and put his fingers on his cheek, pulling him down slightly. Lukas tilted his head and closed his eyes as their lips came together softly. Mathias' lips were warm against his, and they were firm but he allowed Lukas to lead. They took their time slowly learning each other's lips in detail, which produced sweet kisses. Kisses of forgiveness. Lukas felt he didn't deserve them, and somehow, that made them even more precious.

"I love you." Lukas whispered against his lips when they parted slightly.

Mathias opened his eyes fully and held Lukas' face. "I love you, too. I love you so much,"

Lukas kissed him before he could carry on, but smiled.

"Shut up, Mat." he mumbled into his mouth.

"But," he began to protest, forcing Lukas to kiss him harder.

He laughed a little, sending soft vibrations through their lips, making Lukas smile, too, but then he gave up and kissed him back.

* * *

A little while later, Mathias was lying on his back and Lukas was resting his head on his stomach.

"But, hey, I'm really sorry I lost my temper so bad," Mathias told him.

Lukas swallowed, staring at the ceiling and holding the stuffed bunny to his chest. "Mat?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

He could feel him shift a little beneath him, and then a warm hand was securely placed over his hand. "I forgive you, Luke. It's alright."

Turning his head away he took a breath. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He was going to cry again.

"And Luke?" he asked.

He turned the other way to look at him.

"I love you," he told him, his eyebrows raised and his face open and honest.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he climbed upwards onto his chest and held his gaze. "I love you."

A wide grin broke his face, and he hugged him excitedly and they slowly laced their fingers together.


	31. Chapter 31

After he had set his nose, which hadn't been as difficult as he expected, and once he had cleaned up most of the blood, Berwald went out to find Ludwig. He doubted if he would speak to him, but, the crippling sickness he now felt left him with no choice. He had to try.

Ludwig was predictably out by the shoreline, staring at the darkening water as the clouds grew heavier. As he approached, he absently thought about calling to him so he didn't alarm him, but then he thought that if Ludwig was startled enough to swing at him, it might make him feel better. It might make them both feel better.

However, when he reached him, Ludwig glanced over his shoulder and spotted him. He didn't speak, but he didn't leave either. Instead he turned around and slowly brought up his arms and folded them across his chest.

Berwald opened his mouth to speak, but his throat closed and nothing came out.

Ludwig's face was hard and his lips were pressed in a tight line. He would wait for him to speak.

"I," his eyes fell, and his words came out pathetically quiet. "I'm sorry."

Ludwig huffed a little, his arms still folded.

"I know that won't fix it, but, I am. I'm sorry," he muttered again.

"No, it won't fix it." Ludwig snapped, his voice harsh and angry. "It won't take back what you did. I trusted you, Berwald. You said that what was between you and Lukas was from a long time ago, and I believed you! Not only did you betray my trust, but you knew how Lukas and Mathias were; I thought you were their friend."

Berwald couldn't meet his eyes; everything he said was true, and the shame made his shoulders heavy.

"If you weren't over Lukas, you shouldn't have said you-" Ludwig's voice suddenly hitched, but he cleared his throat and spoke again. "You shouldn't have told me you loved me."

"Ludwig," he said quietly, pleadingly taking a step forward.

He didn't step away from him, but he looked up with a force that froze Berwald in place. There was anger in his eyes, but more than that, there was pain. He was hurt. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, ever. Especially not Ludwig. Anyone but him. And yet, he was the one he had hurt the most.

"Just tell me one thing," his voice fell low and his eyes held unwaveringly. "Were Tino and I just replacements for Lukas?"

Berwald wanted to immediately reject such an idea, but if he had, Ludwig wouldn't have believed him. Instead, he thought it out, and then spoke slowly.

"I can't replace one love with another. It wasn't the same, with Tino or with Lukas. And I love you differently than either of them." he explained, although it seemed to take a long time for him to say, and then he gathered himself up and took another step forward. "The others left, but Ludwig, I can't lose you. I wouldn't be able to-"

Ludwig looked away, staring at the ground for a moment as he spoke sharp words. "You say Lukas left, but it would seem he wasn't out of your reach."

Berwald deserved that, but it still hurt. He might have even winced physically.

"Please, Ludwig, I never meant to," it was hard to say. "To cheat on you. I don't know what I was thinking, but I love you,"

To his horror, when Ludwig didn't respond, Berwald began to cry. He turned his head and covered his eyes with one hand, the other balled into a fist as his side as he tried to stop. His face grew hot with shame and bit his lips, but the metallic tang of blood didn't stop the tears.

"I love you. I love you more than I ever loved Lukas, or Tino. I didn't mean to hurt you, I only wanted to make you happy, but, I-I couldn't,"

Squeezing his fist tighter and his eyes shut didn't help him keep any kind of control.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig, I'm so, so sorry," against his will, Berwald's crying suddenly dissolved into sobbing and he brought his other hand up to help shield his face. "I'm sorry for everything,"

His knees began to weaken, just as they had the first time Ludwig had left, when he hadn't thought he would ever return. He intended to just let himself fall, when suddenly he felt something solid against him, and he was held up.

"Berwald," Ludwig's voice was soft and steady next to his ear. "Don't cry."

He moved his hands and wrapped his arms around Ludwig as the German hugged him back, and he buried his face in his shoulder.

"Please, don't go," Berwald begged, his fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket tightly. "I'm so sorry, please, don't leave…I love you, please, I'll do anything,"

His chest convulsed violently, making his throat constrict in an attempt to suppress the sobs, silencing him. Then, he felt Ludwig's hand on the back of his head and he hushed him, then began running his fingers through his hair slowly, trying to comfort him.

"Berwald," he said again in his same, calm tone. "I'm not going to leave. Don't cry."

Ludwig was patient with him, and when he finally composed himself enough to wipe his eyes, they both stepped back, but Ludwig still held his arms. He seemed to be waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice sounding pathetic and broken.

Ludwig closed his eyes once as an indication that it was not what he had been waiting for. "I will forgive you, but for now, I don't trust you."

He blinked, a little caught off guard.

"I love you, Berwald," Ludwig told him, but it sounded more like a justification than a sentimental confession. "But, you will have to earn my trust back."

Nodding once seemed to be the proper response as Berwald tried to accept what he was being told.

Ludwig's eyes softened then and their hands found each other. "But I'm not leaving. I won't go anywhere unless you come with me."

Even after hearing the words from Ludwig's own lips, Berwald's mind still bombarded him with images of Ludwig rejecting his touches, and instead going to Mathias for comfort and conversation.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly. "I can't seem to, fix anything,"

Ludwig looked away for the second time and his eyes stared deeply into his thoughts. Berwald was quiet, but with each passing second, the images in his own mind became more vivid.

When Ludwig turned back to him, it was slow. His eyes ran along the ground until they reached his shoes, and then rose up his figure until they rested on his eyes again.

"I…I haven't been feeling, myself, lately. I thought time would help. But I didn't want, to upset you with, the way I was feeling," he explained slowly, frowning as if it were hard for him to find the right words.

"I just wanted to help you," Berwald told him quietly.

"And maybe I should have let you," his words were so soft he almost didn't catch them before the wind swept them away.

For a moment they both just stared at each other, and then Berwald felt Ludwig's hand slip away. He had to fight every muscle in his body to avoid desperately grabbing for it back. But, Ludwig surprised him when he stepped closer and reached up, removing his glasses gently.

His nose was reset, but it was still an ugly color. His eyes too, and the sides of his nose just beneath his eyes where the metal of his glasses had dug into the soft flesh, probably still looked pretty bad. Mathias had a mean punch, and Berwald hadn't even tried to defend himself.

"You look like shit," Ludwig told him after a moment of studying his face seriously.

Berwald began to smile after recovering from the sudden statement. "You should see Mathias."

His eyes widened a bit. "Did you hit him back?"

"No, he just looks like that." Berwald quipped.

For the first time in what felt like years, Ludwig smiled softly. Then, the soft smile broke into a wider grin, and after a moment, he laughed.

God, how long had it been since he heard him laugh like that, and at something he had said?

Ludwig pressed himself against Berwald's figure, his head resting against his cheek. He wrapped him up, relishing in the feeling. He had missed this so much, just being able to hold him, and to see him smile. The day had started out so awful, but now, he felt as though his heart might burst with joy.

They stayed like that for a bit longer, but the heavy clouds above threatened harsh weather and the wind began to blow harder. A small shutter ran down Berwald's spine, but it had nothing to do with the cold; he always got shivers before a storm. Still, Ludwig pulled back a bit, and then frowned.

"You're not even wearing a coat?" he asked scornfully, removing his scarf and wrapping it around the Swede's neck and chin. "You'll catch a cold!"

Berwald felt himself starting to smile at him over the warm scarf, but he just couldn't help it; he loved this officious, fussy German more than anything else in the entire world.

"What are you smirking at?" Ludwig demanded, but despite how his brow was furrowed, a small smile began to tug at his lip before he pushed him towards the house. "Get your ass inside."

He began to march back obediently, but only once he made sure he could hear Ludwig right behind him. The man in question appeared at his side a moment later, and, with a soft clearing of his throat, took his hand. Berwald felt his heart glow.

"I'm still mad at you," Ludwig told him pointed, but when Berwald looked at him he threw his gaze at the house. "But, if Mathias lays a hand on you again, he won't be getting it back."

Despite how he smiled, Berwald felt like he wanted to hit himself over the head with a brick with a sudden realization. How could he have been so stupid? Ludwig loved him, and he loved Mathias too, but it was different. It was brotherly love. That was probably why Mathias could make him smile in the first place; Ludwig was missing his brother, that Gilbert, and Mathias always told stories about his brothers that could make anyone smile. Hell, Berwald never even had a brother, but sometimes he thought that if he had one, it would have somehow been Mathias. That was just who he was.

"What are you thinking about?" Ludwig suddenly asked.

Berwald sighed heavily before answering. "That I'm an idiot,"

"You've got that right," he told him without missing a beat, but before they entered the house Berwald stopped him.

"But," he stole a quick kiss. "I'm your idiot,"

Ludwig shoved him lightly, again frowning, but seeming to be fighting another smile. "That's not even clever,"

"No, but it's true." he smiled, able to see a light blush on Ludwig's cheeks as he turned around and marched inside the house.

"Get in here, you stupid Swede."


	32. Chapter 32

A week passed, and the change seemed to make it pass quickly.

Lukas had never been shy about his relationships; he preferred to think of himself instead as simply being a private person. But, Mathias didn't seem to care about any of that. He excitedly kissed him every morning and before and after breakfast, if he could steal them before Lukas was awake enough to push him away. The Dane tried to call him pet names, too, but Lukas didn't respond to anything other than his name. Especially in front of the others in their group, who had gotten over the initial awkward change, and now, instead of looking away or shifting in their seats when Mathias kissed him, they just rolled their eyes or told them to get a room.

Still, Lukas had no trouble carrying around the pink stuffed bunny he had been given. He held it in his arm like a small child, and slept with it every night. This token of affection often elicited remarks from the others, but he held his head high and always had something to say back. He liked his bunny. He thought to perhaps name it after one of the mystical creatures he had left in Sweden or maybe even England.

As he was sitting on the couch in the living room, his bunny propped up in his lap while he held a book as though he were reading to a small child, Tino and Emil entered with the dog, Hana, and they all flopped down on the couch. They were breathing hard, presumably from playing soccer again, which was now more common since the weather was improving.

"You hold that thing like it's your baby or something," Emil told him after a moment of staring.

Lukas glanced over the top of his book. "Are you jealous?"

Emil frowned immediately and Tino laughed lightly, petting the white dog as it situated itself on his lap, as if to mimic the way Lukas held the stuffed animal.

"It's cute," he said, smiling so widely his eyes closed. "And you're so happy when you carry it around,"

It was Lukas' turn to frown. "I am not."

"You are too," he cooed at him.

"No, I'm not."

"Yesterday you smiled at your stupid book for an hour," Emil told him, folding his arms.

Lukas would have blushed but instead he simply adjusted in his seat, coincidently shifting his bunny, too. It made him smile.

"See?"

"Shut up." Lukas snapped at Tino, but he was still smiling; fighting was futile, but he did it anyway.

"Even you can be happy sometimes," the Finn told him, causing him to scoff.

Emil looked at Tino, and then back at Lukas and sighed. "He's blushing again."

"I am not!" he argued, but felt a little like trying to hide his face in his book.

Tino laughed again, making him smile even more, and making Emil roll his eyes.

But then, Berwald came down the stairs, glancing around and nodding solemnly before heading through the kitchen and out the back of the house. They fell silent.

Ludwig wasn't feeling well again. Although it seemed he and Berwald had made up, there was still a sense of distance between them that even Lukas could sense. He had been trying to convince himself that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't go interfering in others' relationships, but this had been eating at him for days now. He had to at least say something to Berwald; they hadn't really spoken to each other since the incident.

Lukas stood and shut his book, leaving it on the chair behind him and debating on taking his stuffed bunny, but then realized that if he left it alone with Tino and Emil, he might never see it again. So, he tucked it securely in his arm before he exchanged a glance with Emil, nodded at Tino, and left to chase down Berwald.

As he went through the kitchen to get to the back door, however, he heard the soft pattering of small feet, and looked down to see that Hana had followed him. He stared for a moment, and then nodded. As soon as the door opened far enough, the tiny dog leapt out, and bounded down the stairs. Lukas shut the door behind him, smiling a bit as the dog sniffed and then barked, and ran in the direction Berwald had gone.

As he headed towards him, the high-pitched barking gave his presence away, and when Berwald stopped and turned as the dog reached him, he saw Lukas coming up, too.

"Luke?" he asked quietly, holding the dog as it excitedly lapped at his fingers and hands.

He seemed wary of him. That hurt a bit, in a strange way, but Lukas ignored it. However, it realized that he had nothing ready to say to him, and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Is Ludwig…?"

Berwald glanced at the house. "Yeah."

"Oh," he looked around and then they walked a little ways towards the water, stopping when they reached rocks large enough to sit on.

Hana squirmed impatiently in Berwald's arms after a bit, and when he let her down, she excited ran towards the water, only to come yelping back when a wave surged forward. For a while they said nothing, but even with watching the small dog play adorably, it wasn't the normal, comfortable silence he knew with Berwald.

It was tense. They were both waiting now.

"Ber, I'm sorry." he finally said.

Berwald didn't look at him. "Me too."

"I mean it," he emphasized.

Berwald looked at him, seeming genuinely surprised. "So do I,"

Lukas closed his mouth and looked back at the water. He sometimes forgot how little he had to say with Berwald, but, somehow they both just knew. Berwald knew he was sorry for the problems he had caused between him and Ludwig, and Berwald was sorry for making him cry. They were both sorry they slept together, but no one could honestly remember who instigated it, so, Lukas just concluded that they were both sorry.

"Luke?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I want to ask you something,"

"What?"

"…What's with the bunny?"

He punched Berwald in the arm. "Shut up!"

The Swede began to smile, leaning away from him. "What?"

"Just shut up," he said, smiling back.

They sat side by side for a bit longer, but even though the wind blew colder, they kept a gap between them. Strangely, Lukas felt better about the cold when it came from his left side, and the silence with Berwald suddenly became comfortable.

They could be friends. Honestly, that's probably what they should have been all along.


	33. Chapter 33

Alright, a couple things:

1.) there's another implied sex scene, but it's at the end and there's less to it than the other one, so, yeah.

2.) I feel I should tell you that this story looks to be nearing the end, there might only be one or two more chapters after this one.

3.) America appears but only for a second. A cameo?

That's all, enjoy!

* * *

Berwald was dedicated. Ludwig had told him he would have to earn his trust back, and he intended to do exactly that. However, sometimes his dedication verged on overbearing, and more than once he had shut himself in their shared bedroom and didn't answer when Berwald knocked.

Although things had been getting better, and the household as a whole seemed happier, sometimes he still felt that same heaviness fall upon him, making it hard to smile, and to get out of bed. During these times Berwald watched over him obsessively, trying to cheer him up if allowed, bringing him food, and sometimes even just silently holding him while he read. Sometimes he sent him away, feeling like he needed to be alone, but Ludwig didn't seek out Mathias like he had before, though the Dane could almost always make him laugh.

Now, though, Mathias was mainly concerned with Lukas, and Ludwig found him sitting idly on the couch less and less. He had taken to following Lukas the way Hana followed Berwald, and although Lukas always seemed to shun his affections, he smiled when Mathias kissed him at breakfast.

Berwald seemed less bothered by their blossoming relationship, even if Mathias unintentionally seemed to rub it in everyone's faces. However, when Berwald tried kissing Ludwig in the mornings, Ludwig now always kissed him back. There was still distance between them, however, and more often than not, when he felt the sadness return, it brought the memories of that dreadful morning back to him. Although Ludwig didn't hate Lukas, he felt that they were back to square one with their own relationship, and secretly, he blamed him. He just couldn't imagine Berwald, even being completely drunk, willingly taking Lukas to bed. That might have just been wishful thinking, but now when Lukas called to Berwald, he didn't answer nor make any movement to leave unless Ludwig nodded to him first. He tried to tell him that was unnecessary, but Berwald did it anyway.

As far as their own relationship was going, they slept closer at night, and he let him hold him more, but the distrust kept a schism between them that widen and shrank depending on his mood, but that was always there.

The true borders of this gap were tested one night after a bit of extremely cautious drinking, the first since everyone had woken up with the wrong person, some more clothed than others. Once Berwald and Ludwig were alone and kissing on the bed, Ludwig felt a Swedish hand running down the side of his body, pausing at his hips. When they parted, Berwald looked up at him questioningly, silently asking for permission to undo his belt.

Ludwig would have been lying if he said he hadn't wanted to, but the alcohol made it hard for him to suppress the images of scratch marks on Berwald's shoulders, which had long since healed, but were nonetheless not made by him.

"Not tonight, Ber." he said, pulling back and getting off of him to go lie on his side of the bed.

Berwald was a patient man, and he would wait years if he had to, but he sighed exasperatedly as he moved over. Ludwig punched him in the arm and he grinned.

"I've got to be the only man on this damned rock that can't get laid," he huffed.

It was such an unexpected statement that Ludwig laughed, but then he scooted up against Berwald's side and thought about it.

"Hmm, no, that's not true. There's Tino."

It was Berwald's turn to be caught off-guard, and he laughed loudly before covering his mouth with his hand. "That's mean."

"It's true. Emil could probably get more—" Berwald grabbed his face and kissed him.

"Ludwig, you're drunk. Shut up." he ordered, but was smiling against his lips.

He smiled back, but complied. They fell asleep a little closer, but sometime during the night Ludwig had made his way back towards the edge of the bed again.

* * *

The following week was one of the worst since they had come to Iceland. He didn't want to get out of bed, much less dressed, and sent Berwald away much more frequently. He didn't know why it had hit him so strongly, but it was impossible to shake, so he just lied face-down on the bed.

On the third of fourth day, the door opened suddenly. Too suddenly to be Berwald.

"Hey, get your ass up and get ready, we're leaving in ten minutes!" Mathias shouted at him excitedly.

"Go without me," he mumbled.

"No can do," Mathias chirped. "Now rise and shine,"

Ludwig swore and pulled his pillow over his head.

For a moment there was nothing, a terrifying thing to get from Mathias, but then Ludwig felt as though the whole world suddenly surged, and the next thing he knew he was toppling to the floor with the heavy mattress coming down on top of him.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted as he shoved it off and scrambled to his feet.

"Ten minutes," Mathias winked cheerfully at him before leaving.

Ludwig glared at the door, but sighed heavily once he was gone. He then went about trying to flip the mattress back onto the bed, and made it quickly before cleaning up. He didn't want to go wherever they were going, but it was probably better to just give in than to have Mathias return. After all, according to his wild tales, he had once set his brother's sheets on fire in order to force him out of bed.

Once he made it downstairs, Mathias beamed at him, and then bounded after Lukas as he headed out to the car. Berwald waited for Ludwig, and they both left the house with Emil and Tino, who was carrying Hana.

"Are you sure we should bring the dog?" Emil asked.

"We can't just leave her home all alone, she'll think we left her," Tino cried, and then nuzzled the dog with his nose.

He rolled his eyes as everyone was loaded into the car, but began to grumble angrily when the small dog excited barked as the car pulled away from the house.

"Wait, where are we going?" Ludwig asked after they passed the first small town.

"Riekia—er, Rayjka," Berwald frowned intensely as he tried to say the name of the capital city.

"Reykjavík." Emil corrected irritably.

"That's what I said." the Swede teased.

"Why?" Ludwig asked him.

"Business." Lukas chimed in suddenly.

"…Emil needs to talk to someone, and it could be good to get out of the house," Berwald said a bit quieter.

"Don't they have a phone?" Ludwig mumbled, folding his arms and leaning back against the seat.

Berwald rolled his eyes at him. He scoffed, but felt himself almost smile.

Alright, _maybe_ getting out of the house could be good. Maybe.

* * *

Reykjavík didn't seem as crowded as when they had first arrived, but there were still many American soldiers around. It made Ludwig anxious.

Once they dropped off Emil where he needed to be, Mathias asked where the nearest bar was, and the told him that's where they'd be when he was done. Emil rolled his eyes before turning away, and then they drove down a few streets before they found the place Emil had directed them to. Of them all, only Lukas really spoke the Icelandic language to any extent, but upon entering they found that the bartended spoke English, and so they had no problem communicating what they each wanted.

Still, the bar was full of Icelandic natives and U.S. soldiers alike. Even though Ludwig had never fought any Americans, it was almost impossible for him to relax. It became even harder when, after nearly an hour and a half, Tino talked Berwald into taking the car back to see if everything was alright with Emil, and Mathias loudly decided that Lukas and Ludwig would stay behind with him. Lukas didn't seem as uncomfortable as Ludwig, but he still shot wary glances around the room every few minutes, and glared at Mathias as he attempted to mingle with the people in the bar.

Inevitably, Mathias apparently met someone he liked, and hauled the person in question over to meet them, too.

"Luke, Luke!" he called excited, his new friend in tow. "I met an American!"

"No shit, they're all over," he grumbled in Norwegian.

Mathias almost didn't appear to hear him, and presented the man standing beside him enthusiastically. "This is Alfred!"

"Alfred?" Lukas asked, eyeing him.

"Alfred F. Jones, at your service," the American flashed a smile and put his hand out.

Ludwig shook it almost purely out of instinct. "Ludwig Beilschmidt. Nice to meet you."

He nodded happily to him, and then offered his hand to Lukas. He stared at it dully before eventually reaching out and shaking it too.

"Lukas Bondevik." he said.

Alfred nodded to him too, apparently unfazed by Lukas' lack of interest.

As they all sat together and talked, Ludwig found he liked the American more than he had anticipated. He and Mathias traded stupid jokes and colorful stories, and after only a few minutes, he was laughing too. The first time he smiled, Alfred seemed surprised, but then grinned at him. However, when Lukas apparently became the one who was in a bad mood, Mathias left to go over and try to talk to him, leaving Ludwig alone with Alfred.

They both watched Lukas try to shove Mathias away irritably for a moment, and then the American took a pull of beer.

"What's with them?" he asked as he nodded his head in their direction.

"Uh," he swallowed. "They're just like that,"

"Uh-huh," came the response, and after a moment, he cocked his head at him. "So, you're fightin' with your lover too, then?"

Ludwig must have looked as surprised as he felt because Alfred laughed before leaning forward on his elbows, looking at him over the rims of his glasses.

"W-What?" he demanded.

"No one looks at a fighting couple like _that_ unless they're sympathizing," he said, and then tapped two fingers to his forehead. "It's easy to see if you pay attention."

Ludwig normally would have been angry enough to either punch him, or just stand up and leave, but instead he just glanced at Mathias and Lukas again, and then sighed. Alfred seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

"Forgiveness is, difficult," he mumbled after a moment.

The American sat back in his chair, hooking his arm over the back of the seat, as though that was exactly what he was expecting. "Yeah, but, I mean, you have to keep it in perspective."

Ludwig felt his irritation growing, his hand balling into a fist beneath the table; why did Mathias bring this man over only to leave him alone with him? And what did he know about anything? Ludwig shouldn't have said anything at all.

"And what exactly does that mean?" he asked after a moment.

He shrugged. "If someone's sorry, and you love them, you should forgive them. Not forgiving them won't make anything better, and holding a grudge certainly won't make you feel better."

Ludwig looked at him hard.

"After all," he winked with a small smile, unfazed by his glaring. "To err is human, right?"

He stared at him with a mixed feeling in his chest as the American suddenly pushed the chair back and stood up, looking at the window.

"But, it's good to see some actual sunlight around here. Iceland gets so dark," he said, and then clicked his tongue before leaving without looking at him again.

Ludwig watched the strange man leave, and then turned to look at the window. Maybe it really did seem brighter now…

"Hey, where'd he go?" Mathias asked when he returned, looking around as he held Lukas under his arm, apparently having been put back in a better mood.

"Oh, he left," Ludwig said quietly.

Mathias seemed sad, but only for a moment before he looked out the window. "Hey, Ber and Tino are back,"

"It looks like they've got Emil," Lukas mumbled, being dragged to the door by Mathias' arm.

Ludwig got up and followed them, but the others didn't come into the bar. Emil seemed too put out to want to drink, and Berwald and Tino looked strangely exhausted.

"Long day?" Lukas teased them in his even tone.

That was the first annoyed look Ludwig had seen from Tino. "Turpa kiinni."

Berwald looked surprise. Mathias snickered.

Regardless, they stayed in town for a bit longer, but eventually turned around and headed back to the house. Emil had apparently been calling contacts all over trying to find out everything he could about what was happening in Sweden. He whined that he was sick of living with them, and that he wanted to send them home as soon as he could. The thought of going back to Sweden made Ludwig's heart lift a bit, but apparently it wasn't safe enough yet. After all, it felt like this war was only growing.

That evening, once Emil seemed to have recovered from his annoyed state, Mathias insisted they drink the rest of the alcohol they had. Ludwig smiled, but shook his head and went upstairs. He honestly didn't feel like drinking, but not because he was sad. Since he had spoken with that American, he was realizing that he hadn't noticed how dark it had become. Now that spring was coming, and Iceland was beginning to lighten again, it was easier to see. This led him to notice something else.

When they had come, when it had been so dark, he had pushed Berwald away. Yet, he remembered the night he had intended to leave Berwald's house in Sweden. It had been the middle of the night, but when he decided to go back, it had seemed so bright…

There was a sudden knock at the door; Berwald had come up to check on him.

Ludwig had purposely left the door open, but Berwald didn't enter fully. "Lud? You alright?"

"Come here," he instructed, trying not to smile.

He obeyed, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he came into reach, Ludwig grabbed his face and kissed his lips. Berwald seemed surprised, but kissed him back gently. Too gently.

When their lips parted, Ludwig hugged him tightly.

"Ber?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgive you," he said against his shoulder.

He said nothing, but his arms tightened around him.

"I trust you," he told him, pulling back forcefully so they were looking at each other. "And I love you."

"I-I love you too," he stuttered after a moment, still seeming surprised.

Ludwig smiled and kissed him again. And again. And again.

Berwald only left his lips wanting for the time it took to lock the door and remove his glasses. When they met again, he didn't kiss him so gently anymore. There was passion between them that had been pushed away for too long. Ludwig felt it threatening to consume him as Berwald's warm, strong body surrounded his. They pushed and pulled on each other until they eventually fell over on the bed. It creaked loudly in protest at their weight, but they didn't care. If it broke tonight, it would still be worth it.

Berwald told him that he loved him over and over again, even changing languages seemingly on accident, but continuously confessing his love any time Ludwig's mouth left his.

"Ber," he said close to his ear once he managed to pin Berwald on his back. "I get it. Shut up."

He frowned up at him in such an adorably offended way that Ludwig laughed. To make up for it, he nuzzled his neck and jaw, kissing him lovingly while their hands tried to claim everything of the other's body.

"I love you too," Ludwig told him when they kissed again.

Berwald opened his mouth to speak, but Ludwig saw it as an opportunity to invade, and took it. Swedish and German tongues met and embraced before tracing the familiar curves and lines of their mouths and lips. Berwald groaned softly into the kiss and Ludwig smiled a little in understanding. It had been far too long.

This time, when Berwald's hand moved down the side of his body to his waist, he didn't tell him that tonight wasn't a good night, he didn't get off of him, and he didn't push him away. This was a promise, a promise of forgiveness and love. He had been an idiot, but he loved Berwald, and he would make sure he knew it from now on.

* * *

Later that night, once it sounded like the others downstairs had passed out or gone to bed, Berwald and Ludwig lied together beneath the blankets, holding each other tightly. Berwald's fingertips ran up and down his arm slowly, occasionally moving up over his shoulder and along his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"I love you," Berwald told him again, the blankets rustling as he leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too," he said, and then reached up and touched his face, speaking in German. "Du bist mein Licht."

Berwald closed his eyes at his touch, and then they both pressed their lips together softly, lovingly.

He understood. Of course he did. He had always understood.


	34. Chapter 34

_May of 1945_

* * *

He couldn't believe what he had heard, but the radio just kept repeating it.

An Allied victory. Germany was defeated.

Mathias turned to Lukas with wide eyes, but Lukas was still only focused on the radio.

Hitler was dead. The Third Reich ended.

An Allied victory.

It wasn't until Emil touched Lukas' arm that he looked back at them.

"We need to go," Lukas told them in a quick, low voice.

* * *

By the time they reached the house, the full meaning of what they had just heard had sunk in and Mathias was practically bouncing in his seat. Tino would be so excited to hear the news.

As soon as they pulled to a stop, he flew out of the car and ran to the door.

"Turn on the radio!" he bellowed. "Turn on the radio!"

Tino, who had been reading peacefully on the couch with Hana, dropped the book and nearly threw the small dog off his lap as he shrieked.

Mathias spotted the radio on the table beside him and lunged for it. Tino cowered away, squeezing his eyes shut until he heard the radio turn on. There was a moment of incomprehensible static before Mathias found the news station.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Berwald demanded as he descended the stairs quickly with Ludwig in tow.

"Shh, listen!" Mathias hissed, waving his hand dismissively for him to be quiet.

Lukas and Emil entered through the door that Mathias had left open. As Berwald and Ludwig reached the bottom of the stairs, the Swede arched an eyebrow at Lukas, but only received an anxious glance.

Then, the words echoed through the small room. Allied victory. The Battle of Berlin had ended and Hitler had committed suicide. The British had taken the unconditional military surrender of all German forces in Denmark, and at the end of April, the Germans had been forced out of Finland. May 8th was declared V-Day. _Victory Day._

Tino clamped his hand over his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks. When Mathias looked at him they embraced each other tightly, and he realized he was crying, too. Lukas didn't looked as relieved, since the German forces from Finland had retreated back into Norway, but he held Emil when the youngest fell against his chest.

The broadcast continued to repeat the news over and over again; it was almost impossible to believe.

After a moment, however, Mathias realized that one was now missing. Ludwig was gone.

Berwald was looking towards the door, but made no movement to go after him. It was probably best. He would need time to think. He was still a German, after all. He had fought for that cause. Maybe he had even believed in it. Mathias mumbled a curse, but when Tino looked up at him, he hugged him tighter.

* * *

Once everything had calmed down for the night, Mathias was heading towards his bedroom when he saw the door on the left opened, and spotted Tino and Lukas sitting on either side of Emil. They weren't speaking, but they seemed to be trying to comfort him.

Mathias kicked off his boots and entered the room. They all looked up at him as he climbed beside Emil and Lukas. The Norwegian pushed him away slightly, shielding Emil and making Tino laugh a little. A few minutes later, Berwald came up the stairs too, and paused just as Mathias had done before entering once he received a nod from Emil. He climbed on the bed beside Tino, and the Icelander tentatively offered him the small puffin that he slept with. Berwald inspected where he had patched and stitched it, and then nodded in satisfaction and handed it back.

Then, the last person came up the stairs, and everyone tensed slightly. Ludwig looked in after noticing Mathias' boots in the hallway, and his red eyes widened a bit to see them all crowded together on the two beds they had pushed together. He seemed hesitant to enter the room, but Berwald held out his hand and Tino patted a spot on the bed while Mathias offered him a grin. Slowly, a weak hint of a smile crossed his lip, and he joined them. They all sat a little closer and though they didn't say much, there was something comforting in just being together. Although, this time when they parted, Mathias didn't think it would be as hard; there wouldn't be a war to worry about this time.

"What's going to happen now?" Emil asked in a strangely small voice.

For once, he looked like a frightened child rather than a teenager who knew everything.

"We're going home," Lukas told him, and smiled a little. "All of us."

"Oh," he dropped his head a little.

"Emil, you can come," Mathias chimed in. "You can live with Lukas and me, in Sweden!"

Lukas cast him a look, but he figured it was because he had wanted to be the one to invite him.

"Really?" he looked up, and then turned to Lukas. "You…want me to go with you?"

"Of course we do," Lukas said, his eyes soft and sentimental.

Emil glanced at him before frowning a little. "Well, fine. But it was your idea."

Mathias grinned and leaned forward, swinging his arms out wide and gathering everyone he could into a large hug. Emil complained, but to his surprise, Berwald wrapped his long arms around everyone he couldn't reach, and they clasped each other's hands behind Tino and Emil.

"Group hug!" he cheered happily.

"Idiot, let go!" Lukas said, elbowing him.

The hug only lasted another second before Berwald pulled back and everyone was released. Still, it made Mathias smile. He wished he had a picture of this, of them all together. This felt like their own kind of Victory Day.

A lot of things were about to change.


	35. Chapter 35

This is it, the last chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Tino went back to Finland before the spring was over.

Emil had helped him get into contact with his family, and when they saw him off, he cried. He thanked all of them, but mostly, he thanked Berwald. He found he couldn't say much to him other than a short farewell, since his own eyes had started to water, but they hugged each other tightly before he left. He promised to write, and then waved goodbye. This time when he left, Berwald knew he would miss him, but he felt happy that he was going home. He would be alright.

The rest of them left Iceland only a few days later, finally heading back to Sweden. Berwald almost couldn't sleep, only able to think about how much he wanted to see his home again, but Ludwig held his hand and Hana happily pawed at his shoelaces. A few days really wouldn't be so bad.

Upon landing, Berwald loaded them up in their car almost singlehandedly and then went over the speed limit the whole way to Mathias and Lukas' house, which would now include Emil. They dropped them off, and although they lived less than twenty minutes away, they all got out of the car to embrace each other. Berwald even hugged that damned Mathias.

Still, the pain of stopping now when he was so close quickly became too much, and he practically threw Ludwig back in the car when he spent too long talking with the others. He laughed, but a few minutes into the drive, he seemed just as eager. Ludwig put his hand over Berwald's though, and kept it there the whole way. There was no better way to come home.

Once they arrived at the small house on top of the familiar hill, however, Berwald almost felt like crying. The small building was suffering from what was now years of neglect, as all of the windows were broken and the roof was beginning to sag, but this was it; he was home.

"The place looks like shit," Ludwig said, coming up on his side.

Berwald grinned and corrected his thought. _They_ were home.

"Yep. Better get to work, then." he said, pulling their bags out of the car and unlocking the front door with the key in his pocket.

Ludwig laughed and followed him with the rest of the bags. They both stopped as soon as they were inside, however, though Hana ran ahead to explore. The place looked almost exactly the way they had left it, give or take a bit of water damage and the eerie layer of dust. Still, Berwald could very faintly pick up the smell of firewood, and smiled.

"You know, if there're any more wars, I think we should just ignore them." Berwald muttered.

Ludwig chuckled. "Good plan."

* * *

It didn't take half as much time to fix up the house as Berwald had expected, as Ludwig was an amazingly dedicated worker. He absently thought that the house looked even better than before; everything seemed to shine after Ludwig worked on it.

About the time the house was finished, Emil had succeeded in getting in contact with some people who knew Gilbert. Somehow, he managed to get them both on the phone with each other, and when they were done talking, Ludwig had cried when he hugged the short Icelander. It seemed that Ludwig's brother was safe for now.

A few weeks later, Ludwig received a long letter from Gilbert, in which he told him that he shouldn't be ashamed of what had happened, and that when things were more stable, he would welcome him home to see Germany again, although he seemed to sense that his little brother had found a new home. He told him to never forget where he came from, but that he shouldn't live under the guilt and shame of something that was now becoming the past. It was over, he wrote, and we still have our lives to live.

At the end of the letter, he was forced to tell him that their grandfather had died in the winter of 1943. However, he said that he would have been very proud of him, and that he was everything he had meant for him to be. Gilbert too, was proud of him, and said he would always be his brother. And that he would also be very cross with him if he didn't write every week.

Ludwig cried at that too, a perfect mixture of pain and joy, and Berwald held him all though the night.

* * *

The years passed as they always had, and although Germany was unstable for many years after, Gilbert's letters were always hopeful. One Christmas he even appeared on their doorstep, just as he had the first time Berwald met him. They happily had him for the holidays, along with Lukas, Mathias, and Emil. Tino wrote to them from Finland, and always sent them each small gifts, although he only came to visit a few times over the many years.

On the Christmas that Gilbert had arrived, he had been curiously staring at his brother's left hand almost the entire evening, though Ludwig shyly tried to hide it from view. Still, the albino German insisted on seeing the object in question, which was firmly situated around his forth finger. When he saw a matching band around Berwald's hand, which he proudly displayed, he laughed and teased his brother loudly. Yet, when Ludwig got a hold of a worn picture of someone playing the piano, the teasing was silenced for the rest of the evening.

Ludwig still sometimes had nightmares about the war, and they both still cleaned their guns together on occasion, but Berwald only kept a few weapons in the house anymore. The extra space was quickly filled up with all sorts of toys and bedding for Hana, however, and he piled dry food where he had once piled rifles. He had to admit that, of all the change they had undergone, he could honestly appreciate that one for what it was.

A few years later, Mathias, with the help of Lukas and Emil, opened his own furniture store in town, and after another few years of convincing, Berwald and Ludwig joined in. The store was a large success in the town that he remembered as being fairly small, but which had seen a sudden burst in population. Thus, people needed things to fill their new houses with, and they made the best pieces of furniture in town.

In 1961, a wall dividing East and West Germany was built, and there was a very tense period before they heard from Gilbert again. He informed them he was safely situated on the western side, but Berwald urged Ludwig to tell him that if he needed anywhere to go, even if only for a little while, their door would be open to him. He never took them up on their offer, but Ludwig often worried if Gilbert waited too long to contact him. The fear the war had instilled never really lost its edge, and soon there was a new power ominously rising in the east that Gilbert often spoke of.

Yet, even when things felt like they were becoming too stressful, at the end of the day, Berwald and Ludwig had each other. Somehow, though the mess of events that had unfolded in those few years, they had managed to find each other, and now held on. That was why they wore their rings; it was a promise to love each other and to never let go.

When Hana died, Berwald cried as they buried her. Yet, before he threw away her bed and toys, Ludwig had talked him into going to town with him. He forcefully dragged him to the pet store, and despite the fact that Berwald had been utterly convinced he wouldn't accept any other animal as a replacement for Hana, they somehow left with three new puppies in their arms. The small pups grew up into fine dogs, and sometimes on stormy evenings when they all sat together near the fire, Berwald felt himself nearly brought to tears; would could have asked for better?

Inevitably, Ludwig went to visit his brother in Germany. But, to Berwald's horror, he went alone. It had taken nearly a month of convincing, but Ludwig insisted that it was better that he stayed in Sweden. His first night alone was the hardest in years. Ludwig still called him every day, as he had promised, but the day before he returned, he received a letter. On the entire sheet of paper, there were only four words written: _Du bist mein Licht._

When Ludwig returned, Berwald didn't let go of him for almost an entire hour. Ludwig hugged him back, but with a hint of sadness he told him he doubted if he would be going back for a long time. That was why had had wanted to go alone.

Berwald wasn't sure if he had quiet understood, but he knew that Ludwig was back, and that he wasn't leaving him again. If he tried, he would threaten follow him anyway. He couldn't be without his German, not ever again.

* * *

Seasons passed and the world transformed as it grew up around them. Yet, despite everything that had changed, Ludwig still always fixed his scarf for him before they went out, and always woke up him up with the sun. Berwald still always fell asleep after him, watching the way the same moonlight contrasted his sharp, stern features, and was always able recognize his steady breathing pattern. Somehow, that always gave him comfort.

Even when both of their blond hair began to grey, and Berwald teased Ludwig that he looked like his brother, they still sat together in the living room and read every evening. And in the end, Berwald thought that despite so much change, they had somehow managed to hold on to what mattered most. They had held on to each other.

He remembered that every time he looked at his ring, and out at the forest that surround their house.

* * *

And that concludes my first fan fiction! Thank you all so much for reading, and I'd love to hear what you thought about it, so feel free to post a review or send me a PM.

Thanks again!


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